THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David dismounted his steed with practised grace, his boots touching the ground with a firm thud. The air was thick with the scent of salt from the nearby sea, mingling with the delicate fragrance of summer blooms that lined the pathway leading up to the imposing gates of Castrum Belli et Ignis.

Sir Richard followed suit, his polished armour catching the dappled sunlight as he swung down from his mount. Just as they both settled, a young maid appeared at the gate, her figure slight but composed.

Clad in a crisp uniform of deep burgundy trimmed with gold, she dipped into a practised curtsy, the folds of her dress sweeping the cobblestone path. Her voice, melodic yet measured, carried over the subtle murmur of the breeze. "Welcome, Lord David De Gor, to Castrum Belli et Ignis. It is an honour to receive you."

David inclined his head, a polite smile curving his lips. "Thank you. The honour is mine."

Sir Richard stepped forward, his gaze serious yet warm as he took the reins of David's horse. "Lord David, I'm confident you're in capable hands." He glanced over his shoulder and called for a knight stationed nearby. The knight, clad in armour that gleamed with meticulous care, approached with brisk efficiency.

"Take the horses and escort Lord David's retinue to their quarters," Sir Richard commanded, his voice carrying the weight of unquestionable authority.

The knight nodded, taking hold of the reins with disciplined swiftness before guiding both the mounts and the rest of David's escort toward their designated lodging.

With the task settled, Sir Richard turned back to David, a trace of regret crossing his sharp features. "It's unfortunate that I won't be able to accompany you further into the castle. However, if you're willing, I would appreciate a conversation later, once my duties allow."

David's smile broadened slightly, eyes glinting with a hint of intrigue. "Of course, Captain. I look forward to it."

Sir Richard inclined his head, his expression shifting to one of guarded respect. He spun on his heel, heading back in the direction they had come. The rhythmic clink of his armour faded into the distance as he walked, the polished metal catching slivers of late afternoon light.

A myriad of thoughts tangled in his mind, most of all the lingering aura that surrounded David—a force unlike anything he'd anticipated. The once-rampant rumours of David being the weakling of the De Gor family seemed laughable now. Anyone foolish enough to still cling to those whispers would soon find themselves staring down a grim reality.

And that woman—her sudden vanishing act lingered in his thoughts like an itch he couldn't scratch. She had felt less like a human and more like a predator poised to strike.

Sir Richard shuddered, forcing himself to exhale and loosen the tension knotting his shoulders. Perhaps a visit to the tavern was in order, a chance to drink and drown the uneasy thrill coursing through him—and maybe find a comely distraction to unravel the knots in his mind.

The maid's delicate footsteps echoed lightly against the polished stone path as she gestured for David to follow her. The courtyard sprawled out before them, alive with elegance and whispers of grandeur.

Marble statues of valiant figures locked in battle flanked the main walkway, their forms so lifelike that David could almost hear the clash of steel and the battle cries frozen in time. The lush hedges were meticulously trimmed, shaped into crests and sigils that spoke of ancient lineages. In the heart of it all, a fountain of dark obsidian gushed crystal-clear water, the spray catching the sunlight like shards of diamonds.

David's eyes lingered on the details, each step forward drawing him further into the splendor. The castle's main doors soon loomed ahead, flanked by two imposing Crimson Knights. Their crimson armor was polished to a gleam, the crest of fire and sword embossed upon their breastplates. Without a word, they stepped aside in perfect synchronization, their gauntlets clanking softly as they saluted.

"Right this way, Lord," the maid said, a proud smile curving her lips as she inclined her head to the guards and led David inside.

The air shifted the moment David stepped past the threshold. The interior of the castle was more imposing and astonishing than even its grand exterior suggested. High vaulted ceilings loomed overhead, supported by arches carved with depictions of flames that seemed to dance in the dim light.

Massive chandeliers, adorned with enchanted flames that burned a perpetual deep red, illuminated the hall with an otherworldly glow. The floors, a dark granite flecked with gold, reflected the light in subtle flashes, giving the illusion that embers had been scattered beneath their feet.

The maid, sensing David's admiration, turned slightly, her voice soft but laced with pride. "This castle, Castrum Belli et Ignis, holds its name not merely as a title, my lord. It was inspired by the Chamber of the Lady's War Room—the strategic heart of battles, where victory was forged in flame."

David's lips quirked into a half-smile. "The Archon must be an immortal to have witnessed the birth of such a legacy." His tone carried a hint of jest, but curiosity flickered behind his eyes.

The maid's expression shifted, the faintest shadow of solemnity crossing her face. "Ah, my lord, that is where stories twist. This castle was rebuilt a mere 28 years ago, after the great revolution led by the Archon herself."

She paused, as if weighing her next words carefully. "The old fortress was destroyed in the upheaval, and when the dust settled, she, as the newly appointed leader, raised this stronghold from the ashes—with fire."

David's expression remained composed, but inwardly he marveled. The Archon was not just a name whispered with reverence—she was a force whose deeds could stand alongside the greatest, even the formidable Earl. As they walked, each step carried the silent testament of power, resilience, and a will as fierce as the flames that had birthed these very halls.

At last, they reached an intricately carved door, its surface inlaid with obsidian and lined with veins of red quartz. The maid turned to David, bowing gracefully. "This is your room, my lord. I trust it meets your expectations."

David nodded, stepping inside to the room's opulence that awaited him, his mind still replaying the tales of fire and revolution that had carved this fortress into legend.

The maid stepped back, her formal smile unwavering as she curtsied one last time. "If there is anything you desire, my lord," she said, extending her delicate hand to offer a small silver bell, intricately carved with runes that shimmered faintly under the golden light of the room, "please ring this. I will come promptly to assist you."

David took the bell, its cool metal surprisingly heavy in his hand, and gave her a curt nod. The maid's heels clicked softly against the polished marble floor as she departed, the echoes fading down the hallway before the great wooden door closed with a gentle thud. For a moment, silence enveloped the room.

Taking a seat on the sumptuous black leather sofa, David ran his thumb over the etchings on the bell, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "Let's see what secrets you hold," he muttered to himself, activating his role skill, [

Point of View]

.

A soft glow enveloped his pupils, and a translucent, holographic window appeared before him, the ancient symbols morphing into legible words:

"[Summoning Bell of Swift Servitude.

Crafted by:

Mage Salomonis.

Enchantment: Imbued with mana sigils designed to summon the bearer of the bell within one minute.]"

David's brow furrowed. "Salomonis…" The name tugged at the edges of his memory, whispering of stories he had once read in , the 'Trial of Valor'—a mage known for his extraordinary craftsmanship and mysterious artifacts. Before he could delve deeper into the name's significance, a subtle movement caught his attention.

From the shadow pooling at the far end of the room, Luna emerged like ink spreading across paper. Her deep golden eyes shimmered, a blend of mischief and raw hunger. Without warning, she slipped onto David's lap, her warm weight pressing against him as her arms snaked around his shoulders. He stiffened, the bell clinking in his grip.

"Master," she purred, the word vibrating with an intoxicating blend of submission and demand. Her breath was hot against his ear, sending a shiver racing down his spine.

"I can't take it any longer. You've neglected me for too long," she whispered, voice drenched in heat.

David's pulse quickened, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air denser. His fingers tightened around the bell as if seeking an anchor. He swallowed hard, feeling the sharp edge of guilt cut through the haze.

He had indeed focused so much on mastering his skills and strategies that he had overlooked the emotional and physical needs of his most devoted ally.

"Luna," he began, his voice cracking slightly, betraying the iron control he usually maintained. But her lips brushed the corner of his jaw, silencing any protests before they could form. The faint, feral glint in her eyes spoke of a longing that had been simmering, now on the brink of boiling over.

"No more words," she whispered, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest, where she could feel the wild rhythm of his heart. David's breath stuttered, the realization dawning that the moment for words had passed, and the price of neglect was now upon him.

He set the bell aside, its metallic surface gleaming innocently, unaware of the storm that had been unleashed.