THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David strolled along the winding garden path, the vibrant flora bathed in the soft amber glow of the setting sun. His mind buzzed with the echoes of his earlier conversation, not just with Salomonis but also with the women now linked to him through the "[Harem Bond]" skill.

Every time their voices resonated in his mind, a small, satisfied smile crept onto his lips. It was a surreal connection, but one he found unexpectedly comforting.

"I suppose this is my life now," he muttered under his breath, the faint rustling of leaves his only companion.

As he walked, he occasionally encountered guards stationed along the pathways, their armor glinting under the fading light. Each time, he asked for directions back to his guest chambers. The answers varied slightly, but the consensus was the same: cutting through the training grounds would save him time.

With a shrug, David decided to follow the advice. It wasn't as if he had anything pressing to do, and he was curious about the infamous

Castrum Belli Ignis

. The name alone carried a weight of history and martial prowess, a reminder of the bloody legacy tied to the De Gor family and their allies.

The garden gave way to a broader, gravel-strewn path, flanked by towering statues of legendary warriors. Their carved faces wore fierce expressions, their weapons poised as if they were guarding the heart of the estate. The air shifted, growing heavier with the scent of sweat, metal, and the faint crackle of energy—a telltale sign that he was nearing the training grounds.

David stepped onto the training grounds, his boots crunching against the gravel path as he took in the expanse before him. The grounds, usually bustling with the energy of clashing steel and shouted commands, were eerily empty. The silence was profound, broken only by the faint whistle of a blade cutting through the air.

At the center of the field stood a lone figure, her movements fluid and deliberate as she wielded a steel sword with deadly precision. The fading sunlight glinted off her weapon, creating flashes of brilliance with each swing. Her stance was flawless, her strikes a blend of grace and raw power. Every step she took was measured, every twist of her wrist purposeful. She was an artist in motion, painting a dance of lethal beauty.

David found himself stopping mid-step, captivated by the scene. For a moment, he forgot his purpose entirely, lost in the elegance of her practice. She moved like a predator—silent, focused, and deadly. There was no wasted energy, no hesitation, only mastery. It was a stark contrast to the usual brutishness he associated with swordplay.

As if sensing his gaze, the woman paused mid-strike, her steel blade poised above her shoulder. Her head turned slightly, her piercing eyes locking onto him with the sharpness of the weapon she wielded.

"Who are you?" she called out, her voice carrying an edge as firm as her stance. She took a step toward him, her sword lowered but still at the ready. "And why are you spying on me?"

David raised his hands in a gesture of peace, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I wasn't spying," he said, his voice calm yet apologetic. "I was just passing through and... well, I got lost. I didn't mean to intrude."

The woman's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. Her grip on the sword didn't falter. "Lost, you say?" she echoed, her tone skeptical. "And while you were 'lost,' you decided to stand there and stare at me?"

David chuckled softly, lowering his hands. "I won't deny that I stopped to watch. But it wasn't out of ill intent, I assure you. Your movements... they're remarkable. Precise. Deadly. I couldn't help but admire the skill."

Her expression softened slightly, though she remained guarded. "Flattery won't get you far, stranger," she said, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "You still haven't told me who you are."

"David," he replied simply, stepping forward but keeping a respectful distance. "I'm a guest here, staying in the main residence. I was trying to find my way back when I was told to cut through the training grounds. That's when I saw you."

The woman tilted her head, considering his words. After a moment, she sheathed her sword in one smooth motion, the blade sliding into its scabbard with a satisfying click.

"I see," she said, crossing her arms. "You've got a sharp eye if you can recognize skill. Most wouldn't bother to look beyond the surface."

David shrugged. "It's hard not to notice when someone moves with such precision. You're clearly more than just a casual swordsman."

Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Swordswoman," she corrected, though her tone was not unkind. "And you're either very bold or very foolish to wander the training grounds uninvited. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time."

David dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Fair enough. And you are?"

She hesitated, as though weighing how much she wanted to share. "Call me Mariana," she said finally. "And next time you get lost, try not to lurk in the shadows. It's... distracting."

"I'll keep that in mind," David said, his tone light.

Mariana gave David one last appraising look, her gaze lingering on his broad shoulders and tall frame, which were barely concealed beneath his simple clothes. She shifted her stance slightly, her sword still resting in her hand.

"Hold on," she said, her voice sharp and commanding.

David paused mid-step and turned back, raising a brow. "Yes?"

"You interrupted my training. It's only fair that you make up for it," Mariana declared, lifting her chin. "Spar with me."

David blinked in surprise, then quickly shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Mariana's eyes narrowed. "Not a good idea?" she echoed, her tone laced with challenge. "Why? Because you think I'm not worth your time? Or is it because I'm a woman, and you nobles think women can't be warriors?"

David sighed, realizing the direction this was heading. "No, it's not that at all," he tried to assure her. "I just don't think you'd—"

Mariana's sword rose, its tip pointed squarely at his chest. Her posture was firm, her grip steady. "Are you afraid of being put in your place by a woman?" she asked coldly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Is your ego so fragile that you can't handle losing to someone like me?"

David exhaled deeply, his hand running through his hair. "You've got this all wrong," he said, shaking his head. But Mariana's unwavering determination told him she wouldn't back down.

"Fine," he said at last, meeting her fiery gaze. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

A flicker of confusion crossed Mariana's face before David raised his hand, summoning his skill. "[Wraithblade]," he intoned, and in an instant, an obsidian longsword materialized in his grip.

The blade shimmered darkly, its edges seeming to drink in the fading sunlight. Its presence exuded an aura of quiet menace, a stark contrast to the gleaming steel in Mariana's hand.

Mariana's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing again, her stance adjusting. She gripped her sword more tightly, her body coiling like a spring ready to pounce. The playful edge in her expression was gone, replaced by an alertness born of experience.

David settled into a stance, the Wraithblade feeling natural in his hand despite its unfamiliarity. He studied Mariana carefully, hoping he wouldn't accidentally hurt her. Ever since his arrival in this world, his strength had been... unpredictable, to say the least.

****

Night veiled the land in a serene darkness, the soft glow of the moon casting pale beams through the windows of their shared quarters. Vivian stirred from her bed, her crimson hair slightly tousled as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The muffled sound of giggles pulled her from her grogginess, and she blinked to see the others huddled together, their tasks of unpacking seemingly done.

Shay, ever light on her feet, skipped across the room with a bright grin, towel in hand. Vivian arched a brow, her curiosity piqued. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

Shay paused mid-step, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, nothing much," she said with a teasing lilt. "We just talked to David while you were snoozing away."

Vivian froze, staring at Shay as if she'd just sprouted wings. "Stop joking," she said flatly, narrowing her eyes. But the glances exchanged between the others, coupled with Katrina's knowing smile, told her otherwise.

"It's true," Katrina chimed in, folding her arms with a smirk. "We all had a lovely chat with him. He was... quite attentive."

Vivian's mouth fell open in disbelief. "And no one thought to wake me up?" she demanded, her voice tinged with frustration.

The group dissolved into laughter, Shay twirling away with her towel and humming to herself. Katrina shrugged playfully. "You looked so peaceful. We didn't want to disturb you."

Vivian groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I can't believe this," she muttered before glaring at them. "There has to be a way for me to talk to him too!"

The others ignored her pleas, their laughter filling the room. Gritting her teeth, Vivian clenched her fists. "Fine," she whispered to herself. "I'll find a way to talk to him. Just you wait."