THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR-Chapter 328: THE MASTER’S COURT
The Diamond Quarter of Valemir stood apart from the remainder of the capital, both literally and figuratively. Situated on the city's northeastern hill and separated from the common districts by the Crystal River's widest branch, it housed the winter residences of the empire's most powerful nobles.
Unlike the cramped streets of the merchant quarters or the functional uniformity of the administrative district, the Diamond Quarter breathed opulence in every cobblestone and garden wall.
Here, estates were not merely dwellings but statements of power. Fountains featuring mythological figures in eternal marble poses graced private courtyards. Topiary gardens displayed the precision of master gardeners who crafted living sculptures from imported evergreens. Private guardsmen in livery more ornate than most military officers' dress uniforms stood at gilded gates, their weapons more decorative than functional—a luxury afforded only to those with enough terran to employ battle mages for true protection.
Among these monuments to wealth and influence stood a particularly distinctive townhouse on Empiral Rise—a three-story structure of pale granite with slate-blue trim that somehow managed to convey understated elegance rather than gaudy excess. Its architectural style drew from classical imperial forms with subtle eastern influences, hinting at its owner's provincial origins while still claiming rightful place among the capital's elite.
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This was the Valemir residence of Lord Hilton De Gror, ruler of Aethelwarin County far to the east of the empire. Unlike neighbors who visited the capital merely for social seasons and imperial celebrations, Lord De Gror maintained his townhouse in constant readiness. As a provincial lord whose strategic location and mineral resources made him indispensable to imperial security, he could be summoned by the Empress at any moment.
The house's façade featured tall, narrow windows with distinctive cross-patterned glazing—ostensibly an architectural flourish, but in reality a defensive measure allowing archers to fire from within while minimizing exposure. Its grand entrance, accessed by seven precisely-cut marble steps, displayed the De Gror family crest: two winged female knights in profile, facing each other while jointly grasping a single sword raised toward a golden sun—symbolizing unity, vigilance, and the family's ancient claim to divine favor..
What distinguished the De Gror townhouse most, however, was its subtlety. Where neighboring estates boasted ornamental guards and visible displays of wealth, Lord Hilton's residence maintained an air of refined restraint. The true security measures—wards inscribed in the foundation stones, enchanted gargoyles with eyes that tracked movement, and the ever-present sense of being watched by unseen sentinels—remained nearly invisible to all but the most discerning observers.
Few in Valemir knew the story of how this residence came to serve David De Gror's purposes. Once considered the family disappointment—"trash" in Lord Hilton's own cutting words—David had been denied access to family resources and properties until he shocked the noble circles with his meteoric rise to higher Sword Ranks and the subsequent glory he brought to the De Gror name. His father, impressed by this transformation and aware of the political capital David's achievements now represented, reluctantly granted his previously worthless son's request to use the townhouse during his visits to the capital.
What Lord Hilton remained blissfully unaware of was how David had methodically transformed the ancestral residence into something far beyond a noble's temporary lodging. Behind its respectable façade, the townhouse now served as the operational headquarters for David's network of shadow operatives—a base where his partners trained, gathered intelligence, and planned missions that operated entirely outside imperial oversight. The once-scorned son had created a power base right under his father's nose, turning a symbol of the family that had rejected him into the nerve center of his own growing influence.
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In the grand dining room of the De Gror townhouse, a feast worthy of nobility spread across the polished mahogany table. Steam rose from platters of expertly prepared delicacies—roasted duck with crackling golden skin, perfectly seared steaks glistening with herbs and spices, slow-cooked pulled pork in rich sauce, and a dozen complementary dishes arranged with artistic precision. Crystal glasses caught the light from overhead chandeliers, and silver cutlery gleamed against embroidered napkins bearing subtle De Gror crests.
Yet the true spectacle was not the food but the deadly tension woven between the women seated around their master.
"Hmmm," David sighed with deliberate pleasure as he accepted another morsel of tender meat from Shay's delicate fingers. Her position on his lap—a throne of triumph in their silent competition—was not lost on the others whose gazes could have sharpened steel.
"How is it, dear?" Shay asked, her voice honey-sweet with victory as she adjusted herself on David's lap, auburn ponytail draped artfully over one shoulder.
David licked his lips slowly, fully aware of the effect his appreciation had on his assembled lovers. "Anything from my beautiful partners is a treat for my mouth," he proclaimed, deliberately making eye contact with each woman as he took another bite from Shay's offering.
Seraphina sat directly across from them, her long raven hair cascading down her back in elegant waves, her expression masterfully controlled despite the calculation evident in her eyes. Beside her, Katrina toyed with her fork, blonde hair catching the light as she blushed at David's words.
"I made that specifically for you," Katrina interjected, unable to contain herself as she saw David enjoying the pulled pork. "The spice blend is from the eastern provinces—I had it imported last month."
Shay's grip on the silver serving fork tightened imperceptibly. "I—" she began, but Vivian's crimson-nailed hand slammed down beside her plate, rattling the silverware.
"You should try the steak, my love," Vivian purred, crimson eyes flashing with competitive fire. "I prepared it exactly to your preference—rare with just a hint of char. Remember how you praised it during the comig of age ceremony?"
Shay responded by promptly stuffing another piece of duck into David's mouth, effectively silencing any response he might have given to Vivian's invitation. "Eat up, dear," she cooed, "you must have missed our cooking during your... adventures."
The undercurrents of their rivalry rippled through the dining room like invisible riptides. Katrina and Vivian exchanged venomous glances, recognizing the tactical advantage Shay had secured but already calculating how to undermine it. Their history as personal maids at the main castle in Aethelwarin had honed their skills in this particular battlefield—the competition for their master's attention.
Meanwhile, Seraphina and Angelica ate in contemplative silence. Angelica, with her short black hair and the perpetual watchfulness of an executioner trained in infiltration and elimination, maintained her dignified reserve. Seraphina, the former witch whose management skills had proven invaluable to David's operations, observed the others with the detached interest of someone cataloging weaknesses for future reference.
Both women understood their place in this hierarchy. Unlike the others who had served as maids, their value came from different skills—deadlier, perhaps more practical, but less domesticated. Yet what none of the women fully comprehended was that David found equal pleasure in all of them. The petty squabbles, the jealous glances, the barely concealed competition—he savored these dynamics as much as the feast before him.
David caught Seraphina's eye across the table and offered her the briefest of smiles—a private acknowledgment that transcended the theatrical display playing out on his lap. For all their deadly skills and supernatural abilities, his partners' most endearing quality remained their transparently human desire for his exclusive attention.
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A/N
Ahoy, my legendary Pirate Crew (aka amazing readers)! Another month has sailed by, and it's all thanks to your unwavering support for this humble book of mine. Endless gratitude for sticking with me through the tides! Apologies for the inconsistent updates—your pathetic captain here has been toiling away on a new webcomic, which is dropping anchor very soon. Be sure to vote for your hopeless Author, or I might just mutiny against myself!
Speaking of treasure, I've noticed the flow of golden tickets, power stones, and those rare sparkling gifts has slowed down. Don't abandon ship, I beg of you! I swear by the Sovereigns themselves that a consistent update schedule is on the horizon. Oh, and shout-outs for last month's legends are coming up in the next chapter. Until then, smooth sailing and...byeeee!
