THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

In the castle\'s advisory chamber, a gathering of elders sat in anxious silence around Lord Hilton, the Earl. The atmosphere was tense, the air thick with worry. Elder Luviania, his voice shaky, broke the silence, pleading, "My Lord, you mustn\'t go to Sanctaria. The risks—"

Lord Hilton\'s gaze turned ice-cold, sending a visible shiver down Luviania\'s spine. His voice, hard as steel, cut through the elder\'s words. "Then what would you suggest, Luviania?" His tone left no room for argument.

Luviania faltered, his words caught in his throat as he struggled under the Earl\'s intense glare. Finally, he whispered, "As harsh as it may seem… perhaps we should wait…"

But he never finished. Lord Hilton\'s fist crashed down onto the arm of his chair, the sound reverberating through the chamber. "Wait? You want me to

wait

? My son is gone!" he roared, his aura flaring with an intensity that seemed to make the walls themselves tremble. A powerful surge of energy radiated from him, thick with anguish and fury.

Just then, the tense silence was shattered by the sudden creak of the chamber doors swinging open. All heads turned as David strode in, his presence commanding, his expression unreadable but fierce.

Elder Tyron\'s eyes widened, his mouth parting in shock as he stammered, "David!"

The weight of the Earl\'s grief-filled gaze fell upon David, and the room seemed to freeze. The raw emotion in Lord Hilton\'s eyes softened, just slightly, as he took in his son\'s figure. For a brief moment, the fury subsided, replaced by a glimmer of happiness and relief.

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As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the night gave way to a fresh, crisp morning, ushering in the final day of the long-awaited ceremony. Despite the questions bubbling beneath the surface, the gathered elders held their tongues, each casting a curious glance at David.

They burned to know where he had been, and more pressingly, if it were really true—had he truly been summoned by the goddess herself? Yet, before any elder dared to voice their doubts or curiosity, the Earl himself stepped forward, his authority cutting through the murmur of questions.

"David\'s presence is needed here, and that is all you need to know for now," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. The command was absolute, and the elders reluctantly fell silent, their unspoken questions lingering in the air like an unfinished storm.

Wasting no time, the Earl issued a series of rapid orders to the attending staff, his voice carrying through the corridors and echoing down the castle halls. "Summon every available hand. Every noble must be recalled at once," he commanded. In a flurry of movement, staff members mounted their horses, speeding off to retrieve the nobles who had dispersed following the day\'s chaos.

Meanwhile, the grand hall had transformed overnight. Every corner glistened with the fruits of the maids\' tireless labor, each detail meticulously tended to under the watchful eye of the head maid. Chandeliers sparkled above like a cascade of stars, and delicate silks adorned the hall, draping elegantly over tables and archways. The scent of fresh flowers hung in the air, a subtle fragrance of roses and lilies, carefully arranged in golden vases along the walls.

Despite their exhaustion, the maids moved with purpose, their faces a blend of pride and fatigue as they surveyed their work. They\'d worked through the night to ready the castle for this pivotal day, sparing no effort to ensure every inch of the grand hall radiated the magnificence worthy of the ceremony\'s climax.

As the sun climbed higher, the nobles began to arrive, their carriages rolling up one after another, each adorned with family crests and banners that fluttered in the morning breeze. They entered the hall in clusters, confusion evident in their faces as they whispered among themselves. Why had they been summoned back so suddenly? Whispers spread like wildfire, each noble casting glances around, hoping for answers that would shed light on the abrupt summons.

In contrast, a small but notable group of commoners had also been invited—a rare privilege granted only to the most trusted and distinguished individuals of the realm. They stood quietly to the side, hands clasped and expressions respectful, yet the same curiosity danced in their eyes as they exchanged murmurs among themselves. Being in the midst of such grandeur was a spectacle, and though they were familiar with the castle\'s majesty, it was seldom they saw it brimming with such energy.

All eyes turned toward the throne, where the Earl would soon address them, each person feeling the weight of anticipation that seemed to hang in the very air.

The grand doors to the hall swung open with an air of reverence, their creak echoing through the chamber and stilling the murmurs of the gathered nobles and commoners alike. All eyes turned toward the entrance as the Earl entered, cutting a striking figure in his pristine white military uniform.

His black hair was pulled back into a sharp ponytail, emphasizing his chiseled features and the quiet strength that radiated from him. A pair of elite king-ranked swordsmen flanked him, their presence a formidable reminder of the Earl\'s authority. Behind them, his main platoon followed, each soldier clad in gleaming full metal armor that clinked in perfect unison with every step.

The crowd instinctively parted, clearing a path as the Earl advanced toward the throne. With practiced precision, his platoon split into two lines, raising their swords to form an archway of steel above him. The swords\' edges met in the center, creating a gleaming roof of crossed blades that shimmered in the morning light. It was a gesture both ceremonial and symbolic, a display of loyalty and protection for their lord.

As the Earl strode beneath this canopy of swords, the five elders followed, each one bearing a look of solemn respect. Elder La Muerte Le Gor, with her stoic expression and robe adorned in deep hues of midnight blue, approached the Earl as they neared the throne. With a measured nod, she extended a scroll, which the Earl accepted and unrolled with careful scrutiny. His eyes flicked over the contents, absorbing the words with practiced gaze, his expression unreadable.

Without further delay, his voice rang out, strong and unyielding, carrying across the hall with ease. "Noelle Valtherin."

The sound of her name seemed to pull Noelle from her anxious reverie. Swallowing hard, she stepped forward, her heart pounding as she walked toward the throne. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached the front, and, with a respectful bow, she dropped to one knee before the Earl. The weight of the ceremony, the gaze of the nobles, and the magnitude of this moment pressed down on her, filling her with both pride and apprehension.

The Earl looked down at her, his usual stern demeanor softened by a rare, encouraging smile. "You have done well, child," he began, his tone rich with pride. "Despite the chaos that has intervened in a ceremony that has endured for hundreds of millennium, you have proven both your worth and the strength of your blood."

As he spoke, Elder Tyron approached, cradling a small pillow of red velvet upon which rested a crystal, gleaming an emerald green. The Earl took the crystal from the pillow with the care one might reserve for a relic, holding it in his hand as he looked back at Noelle.

"Rise, daughter of the goddess and blood of my house," he declared, extending the crystal toward her.

The moment the crystal touched her hand, it shattered, releasing a plume of swirling green mist that coiled around her like a living force. She felt it seep into her very being, a surge of power that seemed to ignite every cell, filling her with a strength she had only dreamed of. Her breath caught as the Earl\'s voice rang out once more, resonant and full of purpose. "

Receive your role.

"

Noelle\'s transformation complete, she rose, her eyes gleaming with newfound power, and took her place among the other chosen ones, her heart swelling with pride.

One by one, the Earl called forth those who had also proven themselves worthy, each one stepping forward to receive their role, their destinies entwined with the legacy of this ancient ceremony. The hall was filled with murmurs of approval and admiration, each name a testament to the courage and skill that had brought them to this moment.

Then, the Earl\'s voice echoed once more, calling out a name that sent ripples through the crowd.

"David."

A hush fell over the hall, quickly followed by a wave of startled murmurs and whispers. When had David returned? How had he come back without their knowledge? The nobles exchanged confused glances, their curiosity piqued, while the commoners looked on with awe.

With a steady stride, David appeared at the entrance, his expression calm but determined as he walked forward, each step resonating with purpose. He passed beneath the raised swords of the Earl\'s guards, their eyes trained on him with respect. Reaching the throne, he lowered himself to one knee, bowing before the Earl, his head bowed in deference.

The Earl\'s gaze softened, though his voice retained its formal edge as he addressed the young man before him. This moment was weighted, a culmination of unspoken words and unbreakable bonds that had brought David to this place, this ceremony, this destiny. The silence in the hall grew almost tangible, the nobles holding their breath, waiting to see what would unfold.

The Earl looked down at David, his eyes reflecting both pride and a hint of sorrow. The entire hall was held captive by the silence, every gaze locked on the two figures before the throne. The ceremony had already been extraordinary, but David\'s appearance added a layer of mystery and intensity that left the gathered crowd spellbound.