THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David studied the instructor, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his blue eyes. "Before we begin," he said, his voice surprisingly steady, "may I know your name?"

The instructor, Sir Sendric, puffed out his chest, a show of dominance meant to intimidate the young noble. "Absolutely, young master," he replied, a touch of condescension dripping from his words.

"You'll be learning respect today, and it's best you know the name of the one who teaches it." He paused for dramatic effect, then declared with forced grandeur, "Sir Sendric, Vice Commander of the Seventh Platoon under His Lordship, the Earl of Aethelwarin!"

David blinked, unimpressed. The air of self-importance surrounding Sendric was comical compared to the raw power he'd witnessed from the Blood Alpha back in the dimension tower. This display was like a flickering candle trying to compete with the midday sun."Good," David acknowledged, his voice devoid of awe.

A memory sparked within him. The guard that led him here had mentioned this was the Seventh Platoon. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes. He remembered these men from his days devouring "Trials of Valor" back on Earth.

They were considered the laughingstock of the Earl's army, known more for their tavern brawls than battlefield prowess. But David, privy to the hidden potential buried beneath their rough exterior thanks to the novel, saw an opportunity. He needed men, and the Seventh Platoon, with the right guidance, could be moulded into a force to be reckoned with.

A sly smile played on his lips. It was the start of something much bigger, the laying down of the first thread in a web he would control.

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