THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David and Sir Richard trotted their horses through the grand archway that marked the entrance to Lysora County. The golden glow of the setting sun bathed everything in a warm, amber light, making the county's famed coastline shimmer like a sea of molten gold. The breeze carried the scent of salt and blooming wildflowers, a combination so rich it felt like a whisper of luxury upon the senses.

The main road was paved with smooth cobblestones, worn with the passage of countless travellers over centuries, their silvery surface catching the light like scattered stars. Lining the road, towering palm trees swayed gently, their fronds rustling in a rhythmic dance. Their tall, slender forms cast elongated shadows that played upon the white stone facades of the buildings.

The architecture of Lysora was a harmonious blend of old-world elegance and coastal simplicity. Ivory-colored villas with arched windows and terracotta rooftops stood proud, their walls adorned with intricate carvings depicting tales of ancient sea gods. Between the buildings, narrow alleys paved with polished stones led down towards the bustling harbor, where the calls of merchants and the creak of moored ships created a lively, ever-present hum.

Beyond the city's heart, David could see the stretch of the famed golden beaches, kissed by the gentle lapping waves of the Azure Sea. The water glistened under the sun, shades of deep blue merging into teal and then into a translucent aquamarine where the waves met the shore.

Fishermen hauled in their nets, their silhouettes framed against the glittering expanse of the ocean, while children played at the edge, their laughter bright and carefree.

The market square was alive with color and sound—vendors peddled their exotic goods beneath awnings of vibrant silks, their stalls laden with everything from fragrant spices to rare shells and delicate, hand-crafted jewelry. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the tang of sea salt, making the air almost intoxicating.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sir Richard broke the silence, a trace of pride softening his usually stern features.

David nodded, his gaze never wavering from the panorama before him. "It is," he said, his tone thoughtful. "There's a certain magic to this place."

"Indeed," Sir Richard agreed, guiding his horse with a subtle nudge. "Lysora has always been known as the jewel of the southwestern coast, not just for its beauty, but for the resilience of its people."

As they rode deeper into the county, the horizon began to shift, revealing rolling fields of golden wheat that rippled like a sea in the breeze, their tips catching the sunlight. Scattered among these were windmills, their blades turning lazily, creaking with the stories of ages past. The rhythmic sound was almost musical, a soft counterpoint to the distant crash of the waves.

David's eyes flickered with curiosity as they passed a group of musicians playing lively tunes on stringed instruments, their melodies weaving through the chatter of the townsfolk. The people of Lysora moved with a graceful, unhurried purpose, their sun-kissed skin and bright clothing a testament to the vibrant life of the coast.

For a brief moment, David's gaze strayed to the shadows cast by the buildings, and he could have sworn he saw a flicker—a movement not quite in step with the world around him. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving a tingle of unease skittering down his spine.

Sir Richard, sensing a shift in David's demeanor, turned his head slightly. "Something amiss, my lord?"

David shook his head, offering a small, knowing smile. "Just admiring the view," he said, though his eyes lingered on the shadows a moment longer before turning back to the golden expanse of Lysora County.

Before Sir Richard could respond, a voice slithered through David's mind.

"Master, something has been spying on us since we arrived," Luna whispered telepathically from within his shadow.

David's heart skipped a beat, but outwardly, he remained composed. "Luna, since when could you communicate telepathically?" he asked, masking his surprise.

"Since the very beginning," she replied, a trace of amusement coloring her mental tone.

A sharp pang of regret twisted in David's chest. He had been so focused on honing his own skills and techniques that he had overlooked understanding the full extent of Luna's abilities. 'I need to have a proper discussion with her,' he thought, only to realize with chagrin that she could hear him.

"Come again, Master?" Luna's voice sounded puzzled.

"Never mind that," David sent hurriedly. "Are we still being watched?"

"No, Master. It seems the entity sensed my awareness and has withdrawn," she replied.

"Good. Stay vigilant and let me know if anything changes," David instructed, feeling the weight of unseen eyes ease from his shoulders. Luna's presence in his shadow doubled her efforts, her senses sharp and alert.

"I'm curious, my lord," Sir Richard broke the silence, his tone light yet probing.

"Hm, about what, Captain?" David replied, glancing sideways at him.

"I heard whispers that you faced a King-ranked swordsman in a duel and managed to hold your ground," Sir Richard said, his eyes glinting with interest. It was a question masked as a statement, designed to reveal more than it let on.

'Word travels fast,' David mused, a shadow of amusement crossing his features. "Ah, yes. A light spar, nothing more," he downplayed, shrugging.

Sir Richard's eyebrow arched slightly, but he held his tongue. After a pause, he pressed on, "If I may be bold, my lord, what cultivation stage have you reached?" He assumed David's answer would align with the modest second rank of a swordsman, given the rumors of his 'lackluster' reputation.

David smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting imperceptibly. "Why do you ask, Captain? Seeking to gauge your companion?"

Sir Richard chuckled, a rich, rolling sound. "I confess, my lord, a captain's curiosity is hard to suppress. It's not every day one rides with the Spross des Banners."

David's eyes gleamed as he replied, "Curiosity is a double-edged blade, Captain. One never knows when it might cut deeper than expected." For a moment, Sir Richard's smile faltered.

David's lips curled into a grin, a flash of mischief lighting his eyes as he leaned closer to Sir Richard. "That was a joke," he said, voice rich with amusement. "In truth, I've reached the Master-ranked swordsman stage."

For a heartbeat, Sir Richard's composure faltered, his brow lifting in shock before settling into an expression of grudging admiration. "Master-ranked at your age?" he marveled, eyes narrowing as if searching for any trace of deception.

"Impressive. And here I thought the rumors might have been exaggerated." He chuckled, a genuine sound rumbling from his chest. Yet, a thought gnawed at the back of his mind—was the swordsman who faced David being lenient? Or had this young lord truly measured up to such an opponent?

Something in Sir Richard's warrior heart stirred with a sudden desire. The urge to test David's mettle himself, to engage him in a friendly spar and uncover the truth, tugged at him. But before he could speak, the horizon shifted, revealing the towering presence of the inner wall.

"What lies behind the wall?" David inquired, his gaze sharp as he took in the fortifications that stood like sentinels against the horizon.

Sir Richard's expression softened, a hint of pride bleeding into his tone. "Behind those gates reside the most elite and noble men and women of Lysora County," he explained, gesturing ahead. "Generations of wealth, power, and influence. They shape the very essence of our domain, though some would say their grandeur comes at the expense of those outside."

David's lips pressed into a thin line as he digested the words. The disparity of power, the stark division between classes—it was no different from his own memories of home. The privileged protected by stone and iron while the common folk scrabbled for their place in the shadow of the wealthy. The thought settled in his mind, leaving a familiar, bitter taste.

As they passed through the gates of the inner wall, the transformation was immediate. The cobblestone streets were polished to a glassy sheen, lined with mansions whose marble facades glittered under the afternoon sun.

Towers with gilded spires rose above manicured gardens bursting with exotic blooms, their vibrant hues a spectacle unto themselves. Music floated from the windows of opulent halls, mingling with the laughter of lords and ladies dressed in silks and brocade, their finery dazzling in the golden light.

David took it all in with a practiced stoicism, only the slight narrowing of his eyes betraying his thoughts. Beside him, Sir Richard's voice cut through the reverie. "Welcome, Lord David, to Castrum Belli et Ignis."

Before them, the castle gates loomed, wrought iron framed by statues of ancient warriors locked in eternal battle, their stone faces fierce and unyielding. The scent of roses and smoldering incense drifted through the air, wrapping around them like a perfumed shroud. Sir Richard dismounted, turning to David with a flourish.

"You have reached the lady of fire's abode," Sir Richard said, eyes twinkling with a challenge he left unspoken.

David's hand tightened briefly on the reins, a faint smile ghosting across his face. "Indeed," he replied, his voice low and resolute as they prepared to cross the threshold.