THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

He began to outline the stark reality of their situation, tapping the whiteboard.

"We cannot simply burst Salomonis out of palace confinement." He drew a rough outline of the Imperial Palace, then a circle with a crude crown drawn within it, representing the Sun Empress. "The Empress, ever watchful, would react swiftly.

And her attention would inevitably draw the Duke's." He scribbled a large, blocky 'D' some distance from the palace. "This would put Elara's sister, and by extension, the entire county of Lysora, in grave danger. A direct assault is suicide, and politically, it's a disaster."

Elara slammed a fist softly on the table, her impatience flaring anew. "Then what are we supposed to do?!" she demanded, her voice tight with desperation, the true gravity of their situation pressing down on her. "He's still in there! Every minute he's imprisoned is a minute too long!"

David merely smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. He drew an arrow from the 'D' to the palace, then back to the crown, symbolizing the Duke's potential retaliation being thwarted by the Empress. "We need an audience with the Empress," he declared, his voice calm, resolute. "Not a battle."

Elara scoffed. "That's your grand plan? Just waltz in and ask nicely?" Her tone was incredulous, bordering on sarcastic.

"Not you, Elara," David corrected smoothly, his voice dropping slightly as he looked directly at her. "Count Nicalo is still at large. His presence in the capital makes it far too dangerous for you to appear directly. Your identity, your very existence, is a secret we must preserve."

He tapped the 'D' again. "My plan is to intercept the Royal Palace, convince the Empress of your safety without revealing your immediate location, and explain things later.

What truly matters is freeing Salomonis and protecting your county from the Duke's grasping hands." He erased the arrow between the Duke and the palace, drawing a new one from the palace to a spot where he would soon add a 'C' for 'Creed'.

Seraphina, ever the voice of pragmatic reason, interjected, her brow furrowed in skepticism. "David, with all due respect," she began, her tone respectful yet firm, "infiltrating a magically sealed castle, one rumored to be impenetrable even to master mages, is suicide. And tricking the Empress? That's madness. Rumors of her insight are beyond comprehension, even legendary; she is said to pierce all deceptions with a mere glance."

David's smirk deepened, a triumphant glint in his icy eyes. He tapped the disc on the table with his marker. "This," he declared, his voice imbued with absolute, theatrical certainty, "is our Luminvoid Translocation Array. Our ticket inside the castle, Seraphina. It bypasses conventional defenses entirely. As for the 'tricking' part…" he winked, a confident, almost arrogant gesture, "…you should leave that to me. I have a knack for grand performances."

Vivian, ever eager to see David in action, leaned forward, her crimson eyes sparkling with impressed admiration for her Lover's audacious thinking. "Is it really that simple, David?" she asked, her voice brimming with almost childlike wonder.

David nudged his marker towards Vivian, a playful glint in his eyes. "Not quite." With a flourish, he wrote a prominent letter 'C' in the center of the whiteboard, neatly positioned between the 'Crown' and the 'Duke'. "We need help from the Creed. And that, my dear Vivian, is a whole other plan that needs to be executed today."

Before anyone could even draw breath to question the sudden, terrifying appearance of the 'Creed' in their carefully laid plans, David continued, his pace relentless, his narrative pulling them along into the heart of his intricate web.

"Our first step for that operation: tracking Kars." He detailed how they would leverage Vespera's unique, ethereal abilities to subtly manipulate Kars's mind, planting the Luminvoid Translocation Array on him to track his desperate flight. Kars, unwitting, would lead them directly to the Mistress's lair, the fabled Inverted Cup, a place whispered about only in the darkest corners of arcane societies.

Seraphina's hand, which had been resting calmly on the table, began to tremble, a visible tremor that spread through her arm. Her face, usually so composed, paled as the full, terrifying implications sank in. "The Mistress of the Creed…" she whispered, her voice tight with a profound sense of dread.

"Our speculations were true. If she's a witch… and we don't know her particular set of black magic, her inherent attributes… David, this mission could be suicide." Her fear was pragmatic, born of her deep understanding of magical principles and the terrifying unknown. A witch's unique magic was their very essence, their greatest weapon. To face an unknown one was to fight blind.

David, sensing her profound hesitation, her very real fear of the unknown power they were about to confront, moved. He left the whiteboard, approaching Seraphina with a rare, unexpected tenderness amidst the grand strategy.

He gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against her cheekbones. His ocean like eyes, usually filled with mischievous calculation, held a depth of sincere reassurance. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a soft, firm kiss. It was not a passionate kiss, but one of absolute, unyielding trust, a silent promise to protect her from the darkness she now felt closing in.

Seraphina's eyes widened, her breath catching. A vibrant blush instantly bloomed across her cheeks, a stark, almost startling contrast to her earlier pallor, as the public display of affection, so out of place in this strategic briefing, momentarily stunned her into silence.

"Trust me," David whispered against her lips, his voice steady, carrying the quiet certainty of someone who had long embraced the impossible. He pulled back, his gaze sweeping over his assembled Shadows, the playful arrogance softening into something more calculated, steady, sure, and unrelenting.

"Alright, everyone. The real class begins now."

The words settled over them, not as a challenge but as a promise, a shift in momentum, a step beyond hesitation and into the unknown.