THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David exhaled a plume of icy breath, his words escaping like smoke into the frostbitten air. "The King of the Night," he muttered, the title hanging heavy on his mind.

The chill seeped into his bones, and with a final glance at the ominous, moonless sky, he turned back inside, shutting the door behind him with a shudder. The muffled sounds of activity from the upper floors reached his ears, but he ignored them as he made his way to the hearth. The promise of warmth lured him closer, and he crouched by the flickering flames, stretching his stiff fingers toward the fire.

The creak of the stairs broke his momentary peace. A man descended, tying the lasso of his pants with a wide grin plastered across his sweaty face. The man's eyes locked onto David, and he called out, "Winter!"

David didn't respond, his focus still on the hearth. The heat tingled against his fingertips as he muttered to himself, trying to piece together the cryptic mission. But then his battle-honed instincts screamed at him, and he spun around, grabbing an incoming hand mid-air. Using his back as a pivot, he twisted and threw the man off balance with fluid precision.

The man, judging by the chorus of laughter erupting from a group of men descending the stairs—groaned in pain as he hit the floor. "What the hell, boy?" Ced growled, his voice strained as David twisted his arm further.

"What do you want?" David demanded, his voice low and edged with authority.

The group of men roared with laughter, slapping their knees and pointing at their companion of the night. "Old man Ced, taken down by Winter of all people!" one guffawed, doubling over in amusement.

Ced snarled, both in pain and wounded pride. "You're breaking my hand, boy!" he barked, his voice desperate but laced with anger.

David released him, standing straight as he repeated, "What do you need from me?" His tone was calmer now but still wary.

Ced winced, rotating his wrist as he glared at David. "Why the bloody napsnacks are you so hostile? I don't recall doing anything to yah!" His anger flared as his ego smarted from the humiliation.

David remained silent, his expression unreadable. Ced sighed and raised his hands in mock surrender. "I just wanted to see if you were still lookin' for a job," he grumbled.

The men took seats around the room, settling at worn wooden tables. Scantily clad women swayed between them, balancing trays of ale with practiced ease, their movements deliberate and alluring. David ignored the distractions, stepping closer to Ced, his sharp blue eyes locking onto the older man's.

Ced hesitated, taken aback by the boy's sudden intensity. Why does he feel so… different? Ced wondered, momentarily thrown by David's newfound presence.

David, however, extended a hand, surprising Ced even further. "Sorry about that, Mr. Ced. I'm just on edge," David said, his voice steady and calm, his demeanor almost diplomatic. He needed information, and adapting quickly was his only way forward.

Ced's bruised ego swelled at the apology, though the humiliation still simmered beneath the surface. He gestured toward a seat at a nearby table. "Figured you'd be interested in a job," Ced muttered, dropping himself into the chair.

David took the seat opposite him as Ced flagged down one of the women, ordering a mug of ale for himself. "Don't expect me to order you one," Ced said, shooting David a smirk.

"That's fine," David replied, folding his hands on the table. "I'd rather stay sober and hear you out."

Ced's brow furrowed as he studied David closely. This boy ain't acting like himself, he thought, unsettled by the change. Winter, as far as Ced recalled, would've been begging for a sip of alcohol by now. Something had shifted, and Ced was curious to find out what. But for now, he leaned back, the grin returning to his face. "Alright, Winter. Let's talk."

Ced leaned forward, his gruff demeanor softening as his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I may have tracked down the snow devil," he said, his words lingering like smoke in the air.
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David's eyes widened in confusion. "Do you mean a demon?" he asked, his tone skeptical.

"Sssh!" Ced hissed, pressing a calloused finger to his lips, glancing nervously around the room. His paranoia was interrupted as a waitress, her outfit more suggestive than practical, her breast almost spilling over from her blouse, sauntered over. She placed a frothing mug on the table in front of Ced, her curious gaze lingering on David.

"What's he doing talkin' with Ced?" she murmured to herself, frowning slightly. Shaking her head, she walked away, muttering under her breath, "Not my job to babysit."

Ced cleared his throat and straightened, eager to reclaim the moment. "I don't know nothin' about any demons, boy," he said, waving dismissively. "But you must've heard of the devil of the snowy meadow."

David leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Why not tell me about this devil, then?" he said evenly, his tone carrying an edge of authority.

Ced's face reddened, his jaw tightening. Winter's sudden confidence grated on him, the boy's new attitude a far cry from the meek servant he was used to. But Ced swallowed his irritation. He needed someone easy to control, and for now, he'd play along.

"Fine," Ced grumbled, leaning back in his chair. "Reckon you're too young to know the full story, anyway." He took a long gulp from his mug, the liquid sloshing as he set it back on the table. His voice turned low and ominous as he began the tale.

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Once, in a time long forgotten, there was a kingdom known for its unparalleled prosperity. Fields of gold stretched as far as the eye could see, rivers glittered like liquid sapphire, and the people thrived in peace and abundance. But their prosperity came at a cost. In their joy and comfort, they had forsaken the gods, forgetting to pay tribute to the divine forces that had once guided them.

The gods, enraged by humanity's neglect, descended upon the kingdom in their radiant fury. Their voices thundered across the land, declaring humanity guilty of the greatest sin: forgetting the gods. To atone, they demanded a sacrifice—none other than the kingdom's beloved princess. Her grace and beauty had captured the hearts of the people, and her devotion to her subjects had elevated her to a near-divine status. The gods saw her worship as a challenge to their dominion.

The king, desperate to save his only child, pleaded with his people to take up arms against the gods. "We cannot let them take her!" he cried, his voice breaking with anguish. "She is our hope, our light! If we stand united, we can protect her!"

But mortal strength could never stand against the wrath of the divine. Fear overtook the people, and the princess was dragged to the stake. Her cries for mercy echoed through the silent crowd as the gods decreed her punishment. Fire consumed her, the flames licking hungrily at her form, until her final scream pierced the heavens.

As the embers faded, the sun vanished, its light consumed by an unnatural darkness. From the sky fell the first snow crystal, delicate and pure, heralding a curse that would plunge the land into eternal winter. The once-prosperous kingdom was transformed into a frozen wasteland, its people plagued by endless cold and despair.

The survivors whispered of a curse laid by the princess herself in her final moments, her spirit seeking vengeance against those who had betrayed her. The land began to speak of her not as the cherished princess but as the Snow Devil, a being of wrath and sorrow who roamed the cursed meadows, her icy breath heralding death to all who dared enter her domain.

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Ced leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with dark fascination. "That's the legend, boy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I think I've found her trail."