House of The Dragon: House Nightshade

A few years later, in the serene courtyard of the Nightshade estate, sat a man, his presence commanding and mysterious. His features were sharp, almost sculpted, with a cold intensity that seemed to pierce through the air around him.

His long, jet-black hair flowed down his back, the strands catching the light in a way that accentuated the paleness of his skin. His dark blue, deep-set eyes reflected a quiet yet fierce determination, as if harboring the weight of countless secrets.

Every line of his face spoke of a maturity far beyond his years, a calculated focus that was rare for someone so young.

This man was none other than Vincent Nightshade, who had recently turned 14. Though still a youth, Vincent's physique was anything but that of a boy. He stood tall, his body lean yet muscular, a result of the relentless training he had subjected himself to over the years.

His presence was commanding, his movements deliberate and precise, each one exuding a silent confidence that could only be born from intense discipline.

Rising from his seated position, Vincent reached for the sword that lay beside him. It was a blade of unmatched craftsmanship—his prized Valyrian steel sword, acquired through the system. With a practiced ease, he began to swing the sword, each movement graceful and controlled, like an artist wielding a brush.

The sword cut through the air with a whisper, the elegance of his technique a testament to the mastery he had gained.

As he continued to move, Vincent couldn't help but reflect on his progress. 'The Swordsmanship Training Manual really is remarkable,' he thought. 'To reach this level of skill with a single purchase… The system truly is beyond belief.'

Vincent's skill with the sword was no accident, though. Over the years, he had invested heavily in the system, using the coins he earned from countless quests to acquire the tools necessary to accelerate his growth. Among these purchases were the Combat Reflex Enhancer, which had sharpened his instincts to a razor's edge, and, of course, the Valyrian steel sword—a weapon so extraordinary that even Alfred had been visibly taken aback upon first seeing it.

Which resulted in him having to convince Alfred that the sword was a secret inheritance left to him by his late father had been no easy task, but Vincent had managed.

Satisfied with his practice, Vincent lowered the sword and whispered a single word: "Arise."

Immediately, shadows began to stir at his feet, rising up to take form before him.

The first to emerge was the familiar figure of the Shadow Knight, the very first servant Vincent had summoned through the system. But the knight was no longer alone.

Over the years, Vincent had accumulated a host of shadows, each one unique in its power and form.

There were other knights, their armor dark and spectral, a towering beast-like figure with sharp, menacing claws, and a slender, agile shadow that moved with an almost ethereal grace.

Each shadow radiated a silent, deadly power, their forms flickering in the daylight as if they were not entirely of this world.

A smile tugged at Vincent's lips as he surveyed his shadowy minions.

These beings were his hidden strength, a force that could turn the tide in any situation.

As Vincent admired his shadowy minions, Alfred entered the courtyard. He halted upon seeing the shadows, his eyes widening in awe. Despite having seen these beings numerous times over the past few years, Alfred still found himself marveling at the sight. 'No matter how many times I witness this,' he thought, 'it always feels as if I'm seeing them for the first time.' There was something about these shadows—something subtly different from those of the previous house head. Alfred couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but he knew instinctively that Vincent's shadows were unique in a way that eluded definition.

Vincent noticed Alfred's stare and allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. "Must you always look at them like that every time you see them?" he asked, his tone both teasing and amused.

Alfred blinked, snapping out of his reverie. He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect. "My apologies, my Lord. It's just that… they are truly enchanting, no matter how many times I see them."

Vincent chuckled softly, his gaze still on his loyal shadows. "They do have a certain charm, don't they?" he mused before turning back to Alfred. "Was there something you needed?"

Alfred straightened, regaining his composed demeanor. "Yes, young master. I was looking for you. There's something we need to discuss."

Vincent's expression shifted, curiosity now lighting up his eyes. "And what might that be?" he inquired.

Alfred stepped forward, his demeanor respectful but tinged with urgency. "The tournament being held in honor of the upcoming birth of King Viserys Targaryen's child is soon. It's taking place in King's Landing, and if you intend to participate, we must depart soon."

Vincent's mind raced at the news. 'So, the plot has started.' he thought, his excitement tempered by the knowledge that he had prepared for this moment. 'It's about time I put my preparations to the test.'

Without hesitation, Vincent nodded. "We'll attend. Prepare everything; we leave for King's Landing immediately."

Alfred bowed and quickly made his exit to fulfill his master's command.

As Vincent watched him leave, he quietly withdrew his shadows back into the darkness from which they came. He then glanced once more at the sword in his hand before making his way towards the courtyard's exit.