THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR-Chapter 302: AFTERMATH AND DECISIONS.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Lysora County’s administrative district. Two weeks had passed since the legendary raid on Leviathan’s Abyss, yet the excitement still lingered in the air like the aftermath of a festival.

Vendors had taken to selling crude wooden replicas of the dungeon, complete with miniature figures representing the heroes who had conquered it. Children played at being Salomonis or Kairos Vale, wielding sticks as they reenacted imagined battles against the demon lord.

None of them knew the truth.

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In the private chambers of the Archon’s tower, four figures gathered around a table laden with maps and documents. The windows had been shuttered, crystal lights providing the only illumination despite the hour. Salomonis va Ferrum’s weathered fingers traced a route on the largest map—a detailed rendering of the roads connecting Lysora County to Valemir, the capital of the Solarian Empire.

"This is the safest route," he said, his scholarly demeanor belying the tension in his voice. "Lesser-used mountain paths for the first three days, then joining the main trade route where your presence won’t draw attention."

David nodded, committing the path to memory. His eyes, usually warm, had taken on a calculating coldness in the days since the dungeon raid. Beside him stood Luna, her ethereal beauty unchanged yet somehow more vigilant, like a predator that had sensed distant danger.

Across from them, draped in a simple traveler’s cloak rather than her usual regalia, was Elara va Ironblade—the Archon of Lysora County. Or rather, the woman who had held that title until this morning.

"The council accepted the arrangement without much protest," Salomonis continued. "In your ’absence,’ Mariana will serve as acting lord. The official story is that you’ve been summoned for consultation regarding the dungeon’s collapse—a diplomatic mission of the highest importance."

"And my sister?" Elara asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did she react?"

Salomonis’s expression softened slightly. "She suspects something beyond the official explanation, my lady. She knows you too well. But she accepted the position with grace, and she did not press me for details I could not give."

"That’s Mariana," Elara said with a sad smile. "Always understanding what remains unsaid."

David crossed his arms, his mind working through contingencies. "Salomonis, how long can we maintain this charade? The real Count Nicalo is dead, replaced by something inhuman. If what we suspect is true, and he’s been behind the troubles plaguing Lysora, then your position here remains precarious."

The scholar nodded gravely. "I am well aware of the risk, Master David. But some gambles are worth taking, and unmasking a demon who has infiltrated the nobility... well, that seems worth my aged neck."

Luna spoke for the first time, her melodic voice carrying a hint of steel. "We will return long before any true danger befalls you or Lady Mariana. This is reconnaissance, nothing more."

Though none said it aloud, all four knew that was optimistic at best and a lie at worst.

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The council chamber was awash with morning light as Mariana va Ironblade rose from her formal bow. The council members—representatives from Lysora’s merchant guilds, noble houses, and military branches—had just completed the ceremony installing her as acting lord in her sister’s absence.

She was the very image of noble poise in her ceremonial armor, burnished silver with the Ironblade family crest emblazoned across the breastplate. Yet those who knew her well might notice the slight tension around her eyes, the way her hand occasionally strayed to the hilt of her sword—not in threat but in seeking reassurance.

"I am honored by your trust," she addressed the council, her voice carrying to the far corners of the vaulted chamber. "Until my sister’s return, I shall uphold the values and traditions of Lysora County with unwavering dedication."

Salomonis stood at the edge of the assembly, his ceremonial robes marking him as the senior adviser to the ruling family. Their eyes met briefly across the chamber—a moment of silent communication. I know there’s more to this story, her gaze seemed to say. And I trust you have your reasons for keeping it from me.

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, a promise in his eyes. When the time is right, you will know all.

As the council dispersed, attendants rushing to prepare for the celebratory feast that would follow, Mariana made her way to Salomonis’s side.

"Minister," she said formally, for the benefit of those still within earshot. Then, lowering her voice: "A word in private, if you would."

They stepped into a small antechamber, the heavy door closing behind them with a reassuring thud.

"My sister didn’t go on any diplomatic mission," Mariana stated the moment they were alone. It wasn’t a question.

Salomonis met her gaze steadily. "Lady Mariana, there are times when the truth is more dangerous than a carefully crafted fiction."

"Is she in danger?" The question was direct, stripped of political niceties.

"Not immediately," he answered, choosing his words with precision. "But she is addressing a threat that could endanger all of Lysora if left unchecked."

Mariana’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. "And this has something to do with that strange young man, David, doesn’t it? And his companion."

Salomonis allowed himself a small smile. The Ironblade sisters shared more than just their lineage—both possessed a keen mind for connecting disparate pieces of information.

"They are... uniquely positioned to assist in this matter," he admitted.

Mariana studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Very well. I won’t press for details you can’t give. But promise me one thing, Salomonis—if my sister needs help, real help, you will find a way to tell me. Political consequences be damned."

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The scholar placed a hand over his heart. "You have my word, my lady."

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The small cottage on the outskirts of town had served as their hiding place for the past two weeks. Modest and unremarkable, it attracted no attention from passersby—exactly as intended.

Elara sat by the window, examining her reflection in a small hand mirror. With her striking short black hair framing piercing red eyes, she was far too recognizable to travel unnoticed. She picked up a pot of brown hair dye, imported at great expense from distant lands. The Archon of Lysora was known for her distinctive appearance—those crimson eyes and that raven hair had become symbols of the Ironblade authority. Disguising herself meant sacrificing a piece of her identity, if only temporarily.

"Your sister will be a fine leader in your absence," David said, packing the last of their supplies into nondescript travel bags. "Though I suspect she knows more than she lets on."

Elara’s hands paused. "Mariana has always been perceptive. It’s why I trust her with Lysora in my absence." A shadow crossed her face. "But I couldn’t trust her with the truth about Uncle Nicalo. Not yet. Learning that the man wearing our uncle’s face is a demon who... who consumed him..." Her voice broke.

Luna appeared in the doorway, silent as always in her movements. "The preparations are complete. We can leave at nightfall."

David nodded, then moved to Elara’s side, carefully taking the vial from her trembling fingers.

"Let me," he offered, gesturing to the half-completed dyed hair.

For a moment, their eyes met—hers swimming with grief and rage barely contained, his steady and resolute. Without a word, she turned, allowing him to finish what she had started.

"My uncle was the only family Mariana and I had left," Elara said softly as David worked. "Our parents died when we were young. He raised us, taught us everything we know about governance, about duty."

David’s hands were gentle as he applied the powder to her tattoos, helping complete the disguise that would mask the Archon’s distinctive features. "We will find answers," he promised. "And we will make this right."

Luna watched from the doorway, her expression unreadable. Only those who knew her best might notice the slight narrowing of her eyes—a predator assessing threats, calculating odds, preparing for the inevitable confrontation.

Nightfall couldn’t come soon enough.

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As darkness descended over Lysora County, three cloaked figures slipped away from the cottage, taking a seldom-used path that would eventually lead them into the mountains. To any observer, they might have appeared to be ordinary travelers—perhaps merchants or pilgrims seeking their fortunes elsewhere.

None would have guessed that among them walked the Archon of Lysora, one of the most powerful flame users in the region; a mysterious young man with knowledge that defied his apparent age; and a woman whose true nature would terrify even the bravest souls if revealed.

Behind them, the lights of Lysora gradually diminished, swallowed by distance and darkness. Ahead lay Valemir, the capital—a city of opportunities and dangers in equal measure. And somewhere within its sprawling expanse waited answers about Count Nicalo, the demon wearing human skin.

The journey had begun. The demons, both literal and figurative, would have to remain hidden a while longer.