THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

He couldn\'t help but notice the way her cheeks flushed a rosy pink as she averted her eyes. Was that a hint of… fondness? Before he could dwell on it further, his voice rasped, "Luna, how long have I been out?" Luna shook her head, her concern deepening. "I\'m not sure, Master. But it\'s been quite a while since you collapsed." Relief washed over him. No unwelcome visitors, it seemed.

Pushing himself up from her surprisingly comfortable lap, David shrugged off his bloodstained shirt, the crimson a stark reminder of his recent ordeal. He pulled on a clean tunic, the fabric cool against his skin. As he did, an odd sensation filled him. His breaths felt different, deeper and sharper.

It was almost as if the air entering his lungs was being refined, transformed into a potent energy coursing through his veins. "Could this be… qi?" he murmured, intrigued by the unfamiliar sensation. Fueled by newfound energy and a burning curiosity, David decided to take a night stroll. He needed to explore this power festering within him.

"Luna," he said, his voice regaining its usual strength, "use Wolf\'s Grace. I need you to follow me, unseen." Luna\'s brow furrowed in confusion. "Why, Master? Your safety…" she stammered, her voice laced with concern. David\'s lips curved into a mischievous grin. "You are a Fenrir, for heaven\'s sake!

Hide and follow me." He punctuated his order with a playful pinch, earning a yelp of surprise from Luna. Before she could protest further, a dark liquid oozed from her feet, enveloping Luna in its inky embrace. A moment later, it exploded outwards, dissolving into a shimmer of invisibility. David couldn\'t help but marvel at Luna\'s skill which was better than his.

With a newfound sense of confidence, David swung open the heavy oaken doors of his chamber, Luna\'s invisible presence a comforting shadow at his heels. David\'s mind was a tranquil lake. His steps echoed softly down the stone corridor, each breath a precise ripple in its stillness.

His senses, once dulled by a mundane world, were now razor-sharp, picking up the distant murmur of conversation and the rustle of unseen creatures in the castle walls. The act of opening the technique book had been a revelation. Knowledge, potent and raw, flooded his mind\'s landscape.

Images of intricate hand positions and breathing techniques swam before his inner eye – the Heaven Whispering Palm Technique dissected and laid bare. He felt his body lighten, almost on the verge of defying gravity. Yet, a grounded clarity remained – it was the blissful illusion of a mind newly invigorated.

Meditation had been a familiar practice back on Earth, a way to quiet the frantic chatter of thoughts. Here, however, the forms served a different purpose, a way to control the very air he inhaled, to transform it into a potent, raw energy – qi. Concealed within a shimmering cloak of invisibility, Luna, his ever-loyal Fenrir, felt a shift in her master\'s presence.

It wasn\'t just a change in posture or gait; it was a deeper, more profound alteration. An aura of power emanated from him, sending shivers down her spine. Could mere hours truly elevate one to such a level? Their path led towards the garden – the very spot where David had met Vivian and Gareth. He intended to test the newfound breathing techniques, to harness this wellspring of power within him.

But his steps halted abruptly. A familiar face stood amidst a group of chattering maids. Katrina, the head maid, her stern eyes scanning the vicinity. Instinct flared, quick as a viper\'s strike. David reached out, weaving the intricate patterns of Wolf\'s Grace. In a heartbeat, he vanished from sight, leaving Luna momentarily bewildered.

"Master, any threats?" she hissed, her voice barely a whisper. A low murmur, as subtle as the sigh of the wind, reached her ears. "No, just… stay quiet and follow." The answer did little to dispel Luna\'s confusion. Her master, was changing in ways she couldn\'t comprehend. Yet, a fierce loyalty burned within her, a bond forged.

She tightened her grip, her invisible form trailing after David\'s, ready to face whatever mysteries awaited them. **** Katrina\'s voice, crisp as a winter wind, snapped through the stone corridors. "Make sure the lords\' dinners are brought directly to their chambers," she instructed a young maid, her eyes narrowed in a way that sent shivers down the girl\'s spine.

"The Earl and his sons have no desire for the company of the dining hall this evening." The maid bobbed her head fervently, relief washing over her features. Eating amongst the lords\' steely silence was an ordeal not many servants relished. "And before you tuck yourselves in for the night," Katrina continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "be sure to double-check with the kitchens.

Those oafs in mail can\'t resist their sticky fingers!" Her lips twisted in disgust. "Pastries meant for the lords, gone in a puff of flour and forgotten manners. If I catch one of them sneaking in for a sugar fix…" She trailed off, letting the threat hang heavy in the air. Katrina knew all too well the culprit behind the dwindling pastries.

The guards, a motley crew of brutes more interested in ale than etiquette, had a habit of pilfering the kitchens late at night. The lords, rarely indulging in sweets, provided the perfect opportunity. It was a petty theft, yes, but it rankled at Katrina\'s sense of order. She wouldn\'t tolerate pilfering under her watch. She had a reputation to uphold, after all.

The head maid, a woman who could make even the most hardened kitchen hand tremble with a single raised eyebrow. Katrina released a sigh that rattled the walls. The day\'s festivities, orchestrated with an iron fist and a smile that could curdle milk, had left her drained.

Entertaining the Earl\'s insufferable guests while the man himself remained a ghost in his own castle was enough to turn a saint sour. Yearning for the comfort of a shared hearth and a calloused hand soothing the tension from her back was a fantasy best left unindulged. Duty, like a heavy cloak, weighed her down. Head maid, a title that demanded an unyielding spine and an unwavering gaze.

Reaching her quarters, a mere cubbyhole compared to the Earl\'s opulent chambers, Katrina slammed the door shut with a satisfying thud. Here, at least, the mask could slip. Here, she could slouch, groan, be the woman beneath the crisply ironed uniform. Her moment of respite was a shattered dreamscape. A voice, soft and foreign, cut through the silence.

"Miss Katrina?" David stood there, an apparition perched on the edge of her humble bed. Surprise jolted through her. Her room, always meticulously locked, was now a breach in her carefully constructed fortress. "So," David continued, unfazed by her wide-eyed stare, "this is where you sleep." A flicker of something akin to relief flickered across Katrina\'s face.

David, a familiar irritant, was preferable to an unknown intruder. Yet, a disquiet settled in her gut. What business did the young master have in her chambers at this ungodly hour and how did he get in? "Young Master," she managed, the formality a shield against the tide of rising confusion, "what brings you here?" David rose, a predator closing the distance between them.

His proximity sent a jolt through her, an unwelcome heat rising in her cheeks. Her breath hitched in her throat. "Well," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine, "since you never made it to the kitchen this morning as promised, I decided to find you myself." His words held a veiled double meaning, a glint in his eyes that seemed to echo the power he now wielded.

Katrina swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of the way his arms brushed against hers, sending a spark that had nothing to do with anger through her. David, the once-timid boy, was a different creature now, a puzzle she wasn\'t sure she wanted to solve. David\'s hold tightened around her waist, a gentle yet possessive gesture that sent Katrina\'s breath hitching.

"You look exhausted," he murmured, his voice husky and warm against her ear. It wasn\'t just the fatigue of the day, the endless parade of tedious tasks, that weighed on her. It was the unsettling shift in David. The once-timid boy now radiated an unfamiliar confidence, a power that crackled in the air like suppressed lightning.

Katrina found herself speechless, her carefully constructed walls crumbling under his unexpected touch. His words, though seemingly innocent, held a dangerous undercurrent. "Let me help you relax," he continued, his eyes glinting with a power she couldn\'t decipher. "A massage, perhaps? You must be sore from all that duty." David\'s touch, surprisingly gentle, led her towards the small bed.

Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. This was madness, a forbidden dance skirting the edges of propriety. Yet, a strange pull, a mix of fear and a thrilling uncertainty, kept her rooted to the spot.