THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

Moonlight bathed the balcony in a soft, ethereal glow, casting shimmering silver across the silken blue of Mariana's nightdress. The fabric clung to her curves with effortless grace, a testament to her striking beauty, though her thoughts were far removed from appearances. Her crimson hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the faint luminescence of the moon. She stood still, arms resting on the marble railing, her mind an unrelenting storm.

The spar with David replayed in her thoughts like a haunting melody. Every deflected strike, every step he didn't take to meet her flurry of blows—it was all too fresh, too sharp. She had devoted herself to the sword since realizing she lacked the magical talent that her sister, Elara, commanded so effortlessly. Yet here she was, defeated. Who was this David, and what family had produced such a man? A noble bloodline, surely, but one cloaked in mystery.

Mariana let out a long sigh, the sound carrying the weight of her frustration and disappointment. Her fingers tightened on the railing, the cool stone grounding her.

Was all her training insufficient? Had she been deluding herself into believing she could stand amongst the strongest with sheer determination alone?

The bitter taste of defeat lingered, like ash on her tongue. Among her peers, she had stood proud, unwavering in her dedication to the blade. Yet now, doubt crept in, whispering insidious thoughts.

A soft voice startled her from her reverie. "Mariana."

She turned swiftly, eyes wide, to find her elder sister, Elara, standing in the doorway. The Archon of Warfare radiated quiet authority, her presence commanding and graceful. In public, Mariana would have bowed deeply, showing proper respect to the Archon. Here, on the balcony beneath the stars, they were simply sisters.

"Elara," Mariana murmured, her voice a mix of surprise and affection.

Elara approached with measured steps, her dark eyes filled with concern. Without a word, she drew her sister into a gentle embrace, wrapping her arms around her. "What's wrong, little sister?" she asked softly, her voice like a soothing balm.

Mariana hesitated, her pride warring with her vulnerability. "Nothing," she said at last, her tone forced. "You should go to bed. Your condition—"

"Don't deflect," Elara interrupted, pulling back just enough to look into Mariana's eyes. Her gaze was penetrating, unyielding, searching for the truth. She reached out, brushing crimson strands of hair from Mariana's face. "I've seen this look before. The same one you wore when you found out magic wasn't in your stars."

Mariana's jaw tightened, her throat constricting with emotion she couldn't suppress. "It's nothing," she insisted, though her voice cracked.

Elara placed a hand gently on her sister's chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart. "Strength," she began, her tone both sorrowful and resolute, "is not something easily obtained, Mariana. To reach higher, one must sacrifice. Sometimes, the price is far more than we expect."

At that, Mariana's frustration boiled over. She pulled away, her words spilling out in a heated torrent. "What haven't I done, Elara? I've sacrificed time, effort—everything! I've poured my soul into the sword because it's all I have. And still, it's not enough!" Her fists clenched at her sides, trembling with the rawness of her emotions.

Elara shook her head, her expression calm yet tinged with sadness. "Sacrifice is not always about effort or pain, Mariana. Sometimes, it is about what fate demands of us. The cost is rarely what we choose—it is what we are willing to lose."

Mariana's breath hitched, the weight of her sister's words settling heavily on her. She knew Elara was speaking from a place of experience. As the Archon of Warfare, Elara had carried the burden of their house, of the kingdom's defense, and of her own fading strength. Her condition had worsened over the years, a grim reminder that even the strongest bore their scars.

Elara placed a hand on Mariana's cheek, her voice softening. "I don't have much time left," she admitted quietly. "But what time I do have, I will stand by your side. No matter what trials come, we face them together."

Tears pricked Mariana's eyes, but she held them back. She hated showing weakness, even before Elara. Yet, the warmth of her sister's words pierced through her pride. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you proud, Elara. No matter what it takes."

"You already do," Elara replied, pulling her sister into another embrace. They stood there, bathed in moonlight, their bond unspoken but unbreakable.

For all her doubts, Mariana felt a flicker of resolve rekindle within her. Defeat was not the end—it was only a beginning. Whatever the cost, she would rise. For herself, for her sister, and for the honor of their house.

Elara gently pulled Mariana closer, her dark eyes filled with sisterly concern as she spoke softly yet firmly. "Now, will you tell me what happened?"

Mariana hesitated, biting her lower lip before letting out a slow, measured breath. "I lost a spar," she admitted, her voice laced with frustration and shame.

Elara raised a brow, her expression shifting into one of mild incredulity. "You lost a spar? Mariana, do you really expect to defeat our uncle when you're still at the level of a master-class swordsman?"

"It wasn't Uncle," Mariana shot back, her frustration bubbling over. "It was a noble guest."

Elara's eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned against the balcony railing, her mind churning.

Who could possibly defeat Mariana?

While her sister wasn't the strongest warrior in the realm, she wasn't just any swordsman either. Mariana's relentless dedication to the blade and her obsession with mastering even a fraction of magic had led her to develop a unique blend of techniques. Her ability to fuse a bit of pure mana with her aura put her leagues above her peers, a fact not easily overlooked.

"Start from the beginning," Elara urged, her tone calm but curious.

Mariana sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "I was training alone in the courtyard when he stumbled in, claiming he got lost. He was watching me, admiring my swordsmanship—or so he said. I didn't believe him and challenged him to a spar. He declined at first, but then…" She paused, clenching her fists. "He agreed, and I thought I'd teach him a lesson. But he was—he was…"

"Stronger than you," Elara finished, her voice tinged with understanding.

"Yes," Mariana admitted through gritted teeth. "He didn't even take the fight seriously. He kept one hand in his pocket and barely moved from his spot. His strength was unreal, and his technique was so refined it felt like he was toying with me. Then, when I used everything I had, he shattered my blade."

Elara absorbed the story in silence, her brow furrowing as she mulled over the details.

What kind of beast is attending tomorrow's ceremony?

she wondered, her unease growing with each passing second.

"Did he give you his name?" Elara finally asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Mariana nodded. "He said his name was David."

Elara's eyes widened slightly, and she straightened, her mind racing. "David? Did he mention which house he's from?"

"No," Mariana replied, a note of confusion creeping into her voice. "Why does that matter?"

Elara's lips parted slightly as realization struck her. "David… could he be from the De Gor household?" she mused aloud, her tone both speculative and sharp.

Mariana blinked, her heart skipping a beat as the pieces clicked into place. "De Gor?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't mean—"

Elara nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "The same. David De Gor, rumored to be a disgrace to his family. But if this is the same boy, then those rumors were likely a ploy—a clever ruse to conceal his monstrous strength."

Mariana's knees nearly buckled as the weight of the revelation crashed down on her. Her pride, her confidence—all of it felt like it had been built on a fragile foundation that David had effortlessly shattered. She sank onto the bench near the balcony, her head in her hands. "How could I have been so blind?"

Elara placed a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Mariana. If this truly is the same David, then his family has gone to great lengths to keep his abilities hidden. Few could have anticipated such a level of strength, least of all you."

Mariana looked up at her sister, her crimson eyes burning with renewed determination. "It doesn't matter who he is. I need to know more about him. If I don't understand how he became so strong, I'll never grow beyond where I am now."

Elara studied her sister for a moment before nodding. "If that's what you believe, then follow your instincts. But be careful, Mariana. Someone who possesses that level of strength isn't to be trifled with lightly."

Mariana stood, resolve tightening her features. "I'll be cautious. But I won't stop until I understand."

Elara leaned back against the railing, her lips curving into a faint, enigmatic smile. "Interesting," she murmured, her gaze drifting toward the moonlit horizon. "This David De Gor might be more than just a guest. He could be a game changer."

Mariana didn't respond, her mind already spinning with plans to confront David once more. Whatever it took, she would find answers—and perhaps, reclaim her pride in the process.