THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

A nervous tremor ran through David as he stood in the opulent office. This was his first encounter with a true noble, and the weight of the moment pressed down on him. He dipped into a slightly clumsy bow, hoping not to betray his inexperience. "Good morning, Lord Hilton, Mage Marvel," he greeted, his voice shaky but resolute. "I trust you are both well today.

It is an honour to be in your presence." A surprised silence followed. Both men stared at him, a flicker of disbelief crossing their features. Was this truly David, the problem child, now radiating a newfound courtesy? Mage Marvel, ever the enigma, recovered first. A dry chuckle escaped his lips. "Hahaha… the pleasure is ours as well, Young Master," he greeted, his voice a soothing melody.

However, Lord Hilton remained a stoic statue, his gaze still fixed on the world outside the window. "Come here, Young Master. I need to assess your condition," Mage Marvel beckoned, gesturing towards the plush couch. David relieved for a moment of action, crossed the room and settled himself opposite the Mage, patiently waiting for the Mage's instructions.

As David sat, Mage Marvel muttered an incantation. A faint, ethereal light bloomed around his left eye, casting an eerie glow over the room. He scrutinized David with a hawk-like intensity, before finally nodding with a satisfied grunt. "Your inner aura… it's green," Mage Marvel revealed, a hint of surprise in his voice. David furrowed his brow. "Green?

Does that mean I'm… out of danger?" "Indeed, Young Master," the Mage confirmed, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You appear perfectly healthy. No lingering issues to concern yourself with." David exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Relief washed over him. Taking over another's body, he'd anticipated some complications, some residual echoes of the previous owner's existence.

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With deliberate, measured steps, Lord Hilton finally turned his attention back to the room. He moved toward the couch, his presence heavy and imposing, and settled himself next to Mage Marvel. The air crackled with a sudden tension as Lord Hilton's gaze, finally upon him. The air crackled with unspoken tension as Lord Hilton finally spoke.

"Do you recall the face of your attacker, David?" His voice boomed through the opulent room, a blunt question demanding a straightforward answer. David, caught in the crosshairs of this unexpected interrogation, could only offer a helpless, "No, I don't." How could he? The faces that would have assaulted Mark belonged to a dead man, a spectre of a man who no longer existed.

Now, he was but a shadow, inhabiting a borrowed cloak of flesh. Though he did possess a sliver of knowledge from 'Trial of Valor' – a name whispered in hushed tones, a connection to the assailants. That information, however, remained locked away within him, a secret he held close. "I see," rumbled Lord Hilton, a rumble that sent shivers down David's spine.

The Earl's voice was thick with dissatisfaction, and with it, a silent accusation. "As your father," he continued, his words heavy with authority, "I've decided to relocate you to the countryside. It's time you took residence in the old family manor." Lord Hilton paused, fully expecting David to erupt in protest.

After all, hadn't the young master always craved the city lights, the constant thrum of life and booze? But instead, silence followed. A heavy, unexpected silence that hung in the air. The Earl narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing David's calm facade. This was not the reaction he'd anticipated.

"Do you have any objections to my orders?" he challenged, his voice laced with a hint of steel, ready to crush any defiance. David surprised them both. "Not at all, Lord Hilton," he replied, his voice even, polite, devoid of any hint of resentment. But something about his tone, something beneath the surface, sparked a flicker of unease in the Earl. This wasn't the flighty, petulant son he knew.

This was… different. Lord Hilton, never one for idleness, had had enough of these games. He was suspicious of David's tricks and pretence, so he decided to show his son the true weight of his power to corner him. With a thought, he unleashed a fraction of his aura, a tenth of its full potential aimed solely at David. The effect was immediate.

David felt the air around him crackle, a tangible pressure bearing down on his shoulders. It was as if an invisible giant hand had gripped him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. Shock rippled through him as he watched Lord Hilton's form shift. The Earl's powerful aura materialized, a dense, swirling darkness that masked his features, leaving only icy blue eyes glowing with a cold fury.

"I'm in no mood for tricks and games, boy," the Lord growled, his voice a guttural rasp. "What are you up to?" The force of the aura pinned David to the ground, a single knee scraping the polished floor. This was unexpected. Normally, even a fraction of the Earl's power would cause both David and his second child to collapse.

But David, to everyone's surprise, held his own, his face contorted in pain but his will unbroken. "Lord Hilton," interjected Mage Marvel, sensing the escalating tension. He saw the raw anger simmering in the Earl's eyes, the fear flickering in David's gaze. It was time to mediate before the situation spiralled out of control. Lord Hilton's aura, a ravenous beast unleashed, finally retracted.

It left David gasping for air, slumped on the plush couch. The playful interrogation had morphed into a brutal interrogation, and David, for all his newfound control, couldn't help but wince under the weight of his father's power. "If you wish not to make a fool of yourself," Lord Hilton rumbled, his voice still laced with a dangerous edge, "consider this your dismissal.

Until then, I will inform you of your upcoming departure for the countryside." David rose slowly, the world tilting slightly around him. With a bow, as formal as his trembling body could manage, he exited the study, leaving a tense silence in his wake. The door clicked shut behind him, and the air seemed to exhale a sigh of relief.

Mage Marvel, ever the observer, regarded Lord Hilton with a heavy heart. "He is your son, Hilton," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And while his behaviour has been… puzzling, perhaps a gentler approach…" "Hmph," Lord Hilton scoffed, the sound dismissive and unyielding. Mage Marvel's shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew his friend – once a decision was made, it was set in stone.