THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David perched on the edge of the plush chair, his anticipation a tangible presence in the opulent dining room. The air itself seemed to hum with an invisible current of excitement. Unlike the stale gruel of his past, breakfast here promised a symphony of flavours. His gaze darted around the table, taking in the gleaming silver service and the delicate china waiting to be filled.

A rumble, deep and undeniable, echoed from his stomach, a chorus of approval for the feast to come. The sound brought Katrina gliding into the room, a silver tray balanced expertly in her hands. "Breakfast is served, Young Master," she announced, her voice echoing softly in the vast space. With a flourish, she lifted the lid, revealing a spectacle of culinary delights.

Crisp-fried bacon curled enticingly on a plate, shimmering under a perfectly runny egg. Golden toast sat beside a steaming pile of baked beans, their earthy aroma filling the air. To the side, a steaming pot of tea promised warmth, complimented by a glass of fresh, jewel-toned juice. The sight alone had David's mouth-watering. He wasted no time in digging in, his eyes lighting up with every bite.

The flavours exploded on his tongue – the salty tang of the bacon, the comforting sweetness of the beans, the fluffy softness of the toast. Each mouthful was a revelation, a far cry from the bland fare of his former life.

Between enthusiastic chews and refreshing sips of cool cider, he couldn't help but exclaim, "Miss Katrina, did you prepare this yourself?" Katrina, momentarily taken aback by his formal address, found herself scrutinizing his expression. Was the food not to his liking? Before she could voice her concern, David continued, "This is truly… delicious! Every single bite is pure heaven.

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Could I be so bold as to request… more? More of your cooking, I mean." His eyes, sparkling with genuine appreciation, held a hint of pleading. Katrina, surprised by his unexpected enthusiasm and newfound manners, could only manage a dumbfounded, "Indeed, Young Master." Her mind raced, trying to decipher this sudden shift in his behaviour. Was it a trick? A cruel game? Or something… more?

A second breakfast, and David couldn't hold back a satisfied sigh. This, he mused, was definitely the life. "Miss Katrina," he declared, his voice thick with appreciation, "I'm utterly captivated by your culinary skills!" Katrina's heart thumped a frantic rhythm against her ribs. This compliment, coming from the notoriously aloof young master, was a complete surprise.

Was this really the same David she knew? "I'm… I'm delighted to hear that, Young Master," she stammered, a blush creeping up her neck. The compliment had left her flustered, and David couldn't help but grin at her flustered state. "Are you satisfied with your breakfast, Young Master?" she inquired, trying to regain her composure. David's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"More than satisfied," he purred, leaning back in his chair. "Especially with such a… gorgeous woman like you keeping me company." Katrina's cheeks burned a deeper crimson. This sudden charm offensive was a bewildering shift from the David of old. Honestly, however, she couldn't say she disliked this new side of him. "Well," she finally managed, a soft laugh escaping her lips, "I'm glad.

Now that you're finished, the Earl has requested your presence." A guard had approached her while preparing his breakfast, bearing a message from the Lord. David raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his eyes. Why would the Earl want to see him so urgently? The opulent breakfast room, filled with the fading scent of delicious food, suddenly felt charged with unspoken tension.

The carefree indulgence of the moment had evaporated, replaced by a looming uncertainty. "The Earl," he repeated, a thoughtful frown etching itself onto his face. "Very well, Miss Katrina. Please lead the way." Katrina's steps echoed through the halls, each tread a whisper of power and quiet confidence. David trailed behind, mesmerized.

Her movements hinted at a hidden sensuality, a subtle sway of her hips beneath the crisp uniform that sent a shiver down his spine. Yet, there was an undeniable discipline in her stride, a grace honed by years of navigating the intricate social dances of the De Gor household. Their journey was abruptly cut short as Katrina gestured with a hand, stepping aside.

"We have arrived, Young Master," she announced, her voice calm despite the rising tide of curiosity in her eyes. "The Earl awaits." David, revelling in his newfound role, offered a playful wink. "Thank you, Miss Katrina. Perhaps I'll see you at lunch?" A blush coloured her cheeks, a reaction that both surprised and pleased him. "Certainly, Young Master," she replied, her voice a touch breathless.

This sudden shift in his behaviour left her flustered, yet a secret thrill danced within her. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, David rapped his knuckles lightly against the imposing oak doors. A gruff voice boomed from within, "Yes, you may enter." Stepping over the threshold, David found himself in an opulent office, bathed in the warm glow of a majestic chandelier.

Sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating the rich mahogany walls and furniture that whispered of both timeless elegance and scholarly authority. The centrepiece of the room was a sturdy, antique desk. A brass lamp cast a warm circle of light over its surface, where a quail stand and neatly stacked books hinted at intellectual pursuits.

Behind the desk, tall bookcases, overflowing with leather-bound volumes, stretched towards the high ceiling, each book a silent guardian of knowledge and history. Luscious, dark red leather sofas and armchairs beckoned from the corners, inviting contemplation or intimate conversation.

Heavy velvet curtains, the colour of deep crimson, draped the arched windows, filtering the outside light and creating an atmosphere of seclusion, almost like a hidden haven for the pursuit of wisdom. A sliver of sunlight, glinting off a polished breastplate, betrayed Lord Hilton's position.

Hidden within the cavernous arch of the window, the Earl of Aethelwain watched David approach his office with the predatory patience of a lion stalking its prey. Beside him, perched on a plush leather sofa, sat Mage Marvel. His aquamarine eyes, the colour of a stormy sea, flickered with an unsettling curiosity. David, stepping into the opulent room, felt the air grow thick and heavy.

An invisible hand seemed to tighten around his throat, squeezing the breath from his lungs. This wasn't just the oppressive atmosphere of a powerful man's office; it was something more, something charged and potent like a thunderstorm on the verge of unleashing its fury. Sensing his discomfort, the Earl shifted subtly. A flicker of something akin to amusement danced in his steely gaze.

With a deliberate exhale, he dispelled some of the pressure, allowing David a gasp of air. The change was immediate, the air around them settling into a tense calm. David's heart hammering against his ribs, took a tentative step forward, unsure of what awaited him in the lion's den.