THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

Terror choked Vivian's scream as Gareth, the hulking guard, tightened his grip. Her pleas echoed through the castle gardens, a desperate melody lost in the rustling leaves. "Let me go, Gareth!" she cried, her voice cracking. The midday sun cast long, menacing shadows, amplifying the fear that gnawed at her. "I paid you back!

Everything I borrowed for my brother's medicine, you have it all!" Gareth, a sneer twisting his features, spat at her feet. "That was just the principal, sweetheart. Loan sharking ain't charity, you know." Vivian's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Her brother's illness had drained her meagre wages, forcing her to seek help from Gareth.

Her co-workers, voices laced with a mix of pity and warning, had pointed her towards him, the unofficial lender in the castle depths but all for not as her brother passed away. Now, his grip tightened further, a cruel reminder of the bargain she'd made. "Please," she pleaded, eyes welling with tears. "Just let me go.

I'll get you the interest today, I promise!" But Gareth's eyes held a glint far more sinister than avarice as it fell on her amble breasts. "Nah, dollface," he rasped, his voice a low growl. "I've got a better way to settle this debt. A way that benefits both of us." His words sent a shiver down Vivian's spine, a cold serpent slithering into her core.

Her wide eyes, locked with his, reflected the dawning horror of his true intentions. The castle garden, once a haven of peaceful greenery, morphed into a suffocating cage, the sunlight morphing into a sickly yellow that did nothing to pierce the growing darkness in Gareth's gaze. Vivian knew in that moment that the price of her desperation was far steeper than she could have imagined.

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Vivian's stomach churned with a primal fear. Gareth's grip tightened like a python coiling around her, his words a grotesque proposition. "No, no, I don't want to!" she shrieked, fighting against his vice-like hold. But Gareth, a mountain of a man fueled by a twisted desire, remained unyielding. "Come on," he rasped, his voice laced with a sickening leer as he examined her thick protruding behind.

"One quick squeeze and we'll call it even. Promise." Vivian's scream died in her throat, replaced by a gasp as a new figure emerged from the dappled sunlight. The castle garden, once a refuge, shrank around her, the cheerful chirping of birds replaced by the pounding of her frantic heart. Gareth, momentarily distracted, flashed Vivian a predatory grin. "See?

we'll settle this in a jiffy." But his smile evaporated faster than morning mist. A shadow stretched behind him, a harbinger of unexpected intervention. "Hey buddy can't you see I'm in the middle of something, scrum bastard," Gareth cursed the person behind him. The newcomer's response was a low rumble, like thunder rolling across a distant horizon.

"Did you… just call me a bastard?" His voice, deceptively calm, held the promise of a coming storm. Gareth, his bravado gone, slowly turned, and his eyes widened comically. The smile melted from his face, replaced by a mask of pure terror. Before him stood a figure he recognized all too well - the young master, David De Gor.

David, his usual carefree demeanour replaced by a steely glint in his eyes, allowed the silence to hang heavy in the air. "Cat got your tongue ?" he finally drawled, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm. The weight of his gaze pinned Gareth like a butterfly to a collector's board. "Y-young...young....master," Gareth stammered, his voice a pathetic croak escaping his suddenly dry throat.

David, a storm brewing in his narrowed eyes, surveyed the scene with chilling clarity. He bypassed Gareth, who stood frozen like a gargoyle sculpted from fear, and reached out to Vivian. Her trembling hand grasped his as if it were a lifeline. Gareth, frozen like a gargoyle in the afternoon light, watched them leave. A flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes.

"Young Master!" he called out, his voice regaining a touch of its former bravado. "I have business with her, you see…" He attempted to explain, desperate to reclaim his "prey." But David cut him off with a single, icy question that sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through Gareth. "Did I ask?!" The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken threat.

The playful, easygoing young master Gareth remembered seemed to have vanished, replaced by a figure radiating a cold, steely authority. David's gaze, sharp as a honed blade, pinned Gareth in place. A red haze clouded Gareth's vision. Was the young master playing some twisted hero game?

'Bloody hell,' he raged internally, 'who does this De Gor trash think he is, a prince on a white stallion?' "Young Master," Gareth spat, desperate to salvage his dominance in front of the trembling maid. "According to the Queen's law, this woman is in debt to me!

Kindly step aside and let us settle this like civilized folk." David, having devoured the novel's "Auxiliary" section – which detailed the laws of the land – offered a wickedly wide smile. "Indeed," he said, his voice dripping with a honeyed threat as he tilted his head slightly downward.

"And if you're familiar with the Queen's law, you also know that a noble's word is as good as god." Gareth's face contorted, 'shit!' He hadn't expected this. The young master, notorious for his frivolous ways, knew the law? How? Panic gnawed at the edges of his bravado. "On your knees, guard!" David's voice, a sudden thunderclap, shattered the tense silence. Both Vivian and Gareth flinched.

Gritting his teeth, Gareth sunk to his knees, the earth tasting gritty against his lips as David's unyielding boot pressed down on his head. "You shall remain in that posture," David's voice held a chilling authority, "until the last rays of the sun kiss goodbye to this very spot. I'll send someone to make sure you haven't sprouted wings. Consider this a lesson in respect.

One you won't soon forget." With that, David turned his back on the sputtering guard, offering Vivian a reassuring smile. He gently steered her towards the castle, leaving Gareth a writhing mass of curses and regret under the unforgiving midday sun.