THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

In the dim, cavernous depths of the advisory council chamber, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Lord Hilton sat upon his throne, a seat forged from the darkest obsidian, its edges jagged like the fangs of a beast. The throne was adorned with crimson veins of pulsating energy, a haunting glow emanating from the carved recesses, as if the seat itself was alive, feeding off the power of the one who dared to sit upon it.

The high back of the throne soared towards the chamber's vaulted ceiling, its sides flanked by twisted, blackened spires that seemed to pierce the very heavens. Beneath the throne, an ethereal fire blazed, casting flickering shadows that danced malevolently across the cold, stone floor.

Lord Hilton, a man hardened by the weight of endless battles and decisions, massaged his temples, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. The power radiating from the throne did little to ease his troubled thoughts.

How did it come to this?

The question echoed in his mind, reverberating through the chamber as he struggled to piece together the events that had led to this moment of discord within his own house.

Beside him stood Elder Scroll, a figure as imposing as the throne itself. The elder's presence commanded respect, his very aura a testament to a life spent in the crucible of war and governance. His weathered face was etched with the marks of time and conflict, each line a story of the countless battles fought and the hard decisions made. His dark hair, now threaded with silver, framed a visage that was both stern and wise, the eyes of a man who had seen much and yet remained unbroken.

Draped in a grand fur-lined cloak, Elder Scroll exuded a status that could not be mistaken. His deep blue tunic, rich with detail, was fastened with ornate gold clasps that gleamed in the low light, their intricate patterns a subtle nod to his noble heritage and illustrious military past. His posture was one of defiance and pride, a hand resting confidently on his hip, as if ready to draw the blade at his side at any moment. Here was a true De Gor, noble not just by birth but by the strength of character and the legacy he carried.

"So let me get this right," Elder Scroll's voice was a deep rumble, a sound that commanded attention and brooked no dissent. His gaze, sharp and piercing, swept across the two parties standing before the throne, his expression unreadable but for the slight narrowing of his eyes.

On one side of the chamber stood David, flanked by Seraphina and Katrina. David's expression was cool, and calculating. Seraphina and Katrina, both formidable in their own right, stood like sentinels, their loyalty to David clear in their unwavering presence by his side. The air around them crackled with an unspoken bond, a unity forged in the fires of shared trials and an unyielding determination.

Opposite them, Eric stood tall, his body fully healed from the injuries he had sustained. His noble followers, cloaked in the shadows of the chamber, surrounded him in a formation that was both protective and reverential, their faces masked by an eerie calm. There was something almost cult-like in their devotion, a blind loyalty that bordered on fanaticism. Eric's gaze met David's, the animosity between them palpable, like the gathering storm before a battle.

As Elder Scroll's words hung in the air, the silence that followed was heavy with anticipation. Each side awaited the verdict, knowing that the outcome of this confrontation would shape the future of the De Gor lineage. Lord Hilton, his mind still a whirl of conflicting emotions, remained silent, his thoughts his own as he weighed the fates of the two brothers before him.

The advisory chamber, with its ominous throne and flickering shadows, seemed to hold its breath, as if the very walls were waiting for the storm to break. And in that moment, beneath the gaze of his father and the scrutiny of Elder Scroll, David knew that whatever came next, the die had been cast. The path ahead would not be an easy one, but he was ready to face it, his resolve as unyielding as the throne upon which his father sat.

"You expect me to believe that David single-handedly took down three nobles unaffiliated with our house?" Elder Scroll's voice dripped with scepticism, his tone sharp and cutting as he spat out the words. "Defeated them as an awakened, then had the audacity to challenge his own brother, Eric, a master swordsman, and left him on the brink of death?" His eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on Eric's party, the group that had relayed the astonishing tale.

The tension in the chamber was palpable, the air thick with disbelief and accusation. Elder Scroll's piercing gaze swept over the group, his disbelief clear as day. "As much as I am inclined to act as a proxy jury for you, My Lord," he said, turning to Lord Hilton, who still sat deep in thought on his obsidian throne, "I believe Eric and his companions are spewing nothing but nonsense."

"It's the truth!" Eric's voice rose in protest, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. "He attacked us for no reason at all!" But his words were cut short as Lord Hilton raised his hand, commanding silence with a single, imperious gesture. The chamber fell deathly quiet, the only sound the faint crackling of the ethereal fire beneath the throne.

"Elder Scroll," Lord Hilton began, his voice measured and calm, yet carrying an undeniable weight, "I assume you've heard the rumour that David took down the Fingers?" His words hung in the air, charged with a significance that sent a ripple through the chamber. The Fingers, a notorious group feared and respected in equal measure, were not opponents to be taken lightly. The very mention of their defeat sent a murmur of unease through those present.

Elder Scroll's brow furrowed, his stern demeanour faltering for just a moment. "You surely can't believe such a rumour, my Lord," he tried to reason, his voice losing some of its earlier edge. But Lord Hilton's expression remained inscrutable, his gaze fixed firmly on the elder.

"Do not dismiss them as baseless rumours," Lord Hilton stated, his voice carrying a tone of finality. "I can personally testify to David's accomplishments." The revelation sent a shockwave through the room, the magnitude of the Earl's words causing Elder Scroll to visibly stiffen.

The elder tried to process what he had just heard, the realization settling in slowly. "If you say so, my Lord," he finally managed, though his tone was subdued, as if still grappling with the newfound reality. His gaze shifted to David, no longer viewing him as merely a boy, but as a force to be reckoned with.

David... interesting

, Elder Scroll mused to himself, seeing the young man in a new, more formidable light.

Lord Hilton, however, was not yet done. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto David with an intensity that made the young man feel the full weight of his father's authority. "The matter at hand," Lord Hilton continued, his voice like steel, "is the accusation that David attacked nobles from another house, challenged his own brother, and nearly took his life." The words were delivered with an icy precision, each one landing like a hammer blow.

"Is that true, boy?" Lord Hilton demanded, his gaze piercing straight through David. The chamber seemed to hold its breath as all eyes turned to David, waiting for his response.

David stood tall, unflinching under the scrutiny. His mind raced, but outwardly, he remained calm. He knew this moment would be pivotal, the weight of the accusation bearing down on him. But in his eyes, there was no fear, only a defiant fire that hinted at the beast within, a beast that was only now beginning to show its fangs.

"Yes," David replied, his voice steady and unwavering. "I did what was necessary."

The room remained silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Lord Hilton's expression didn't change, but his eyes held a glint of something—pride, perhaps, or maybe a grudging respect.

Elder Scroll observed the exchange with keen interest. The boy had courage, there was no denying that. But courage alone would not be enough to navigate the dangerous path he was on. Still, there was something about David that intrigued the elder, something that hinted at untapped potential.

Lord Hilton leaned back in his throne, his mind already racing ahead, calculating the implications of this revelation. The room remained heavy with anticipation, the future uncertain, but one thing was clear—David De Gor was no longer a boy. He was a player in this game of power, and the stakes had just been raised.

"Do you have a cause? If not, your punishment will be severe," Lord Hilton's voice was cold, a dangerous edge lurking beneath his calm demeanour. His eyes bore into David, demanding an answer, but the young man did not falter.

"By the goddess of reservation," David replied, his tone steady, "I do have a cause that justifies my actions."

1

Lord Hilton's gaze narrowed, scrutinizing the boy before him. "Speak then," he commanded, granting David permission to explain himself.

Eric, standing to the side, was bewildered by his brother's calmness.

What could David possibly have to say that would justify such an attack?

Eric mused, his thoughts racing. If David planned to use the head maid as a scapegoat, then surely, he was ignorant of the Queen's Law—a law that bestowed upon nobility power akin to that of gods over commoners. The very idea made Eric smirk, confident that David was walking into a trap of his own making.

David took a step forward, his posture exuding a quiet confidence that seemed out of place for someone under such scrutiny. "My Lord," he began, his voice carrying across the chamber with clarity, "if a commoner were to sacrifice their life to save a noble, would such a person be dishonoured?"

Lord Hilton's expression remained stern, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Get to the point, boy," he commanded, impatience seeping into his tone.

David nodded, his gaze unwavering as he continued. "It is recorded that the late lady of the De Gor house was saved by a mere servant during the Crimson Moon," he revealed, his words hanging in the air like a thunderclap. The impact of his statement was immediate; both Lord Hilton and Elder Scroll's faces morphed into expressions of surprise.

How does he know that?

both men thought simultaneously, their minds reeling from the unexpected revelation. Eric, on the other hand, stood frozen, his previous confidence shattered.

What is David talking about?

He was completely lost, unable to grasp the significance of his brother's words.

Elder Scroll, however, began to grin, a slow, knowing smile that crept across his weathered face. "I presume there's no reason to drag this out," he whispered to himself, recognizing the sharpness of David's mind. The boy was no longer a mere pawn in the game; he was revealing himself to be a wolf in noble's clothing, a creature that would use everything in its power to survive and dominate.

Excellent,

the elder thought, his eyes gleaming with a newfound respect for the young De Gor. David had shown his claws, and they were sharper than anyone had anticipated.

Lord Hilton's mind raced, processing the implications of David's words. The story of the servant who had saved the late lady was not one that was widely known, certainly not something a boy of David's age should have been privy to. Yet here he was, wielding this piece of history like a blade, cutting through the accusations against him with precise, calculated words.

The chamber was silent, the tension thick as everyone awaited Lord Hilton's response. The Earl's face was a mask of contemplation, his mind working through the web of connections David had just revealed. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority.

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A/N: I did it again guys lol, section is worth 2 chapters.

explanation

Mekela De Gor was saved by Katrina's grandfather, meriting the commoner family to status.

using the goddess of reservation as an oath to back his words