Third Person's POV
"Beco my unofficial vassals, and I, Aram Vord, heir of the great Vord Dukedom, will raise you above your pitiful station."
His voice swelled and started ringing with grandiosity.
"For a naless bastard like you, it should be an unimaginable honor to serve under the banner of a Duke of the great Empire of Infernal Sovereignty.
In doing so, you will bask in my shadow and rise higher than you ever could alone.
With your talent, you could beco my sword, my spear… together, we could shake the very foundations of this empire!"
He finished with a flourish as if he were expecting applause and a face full of gratefulness and joy on Ethan.
But Ethan, on the other hand, simply stared at this delusional idiot.
He was even wondering if he had uttered such words purely out of his belief or intentional mockery.
Another petty lordling, mistaking ambition for destiny. But is really such an idiot as his words claim him to be?
Ethan thought this with consternation while the setting sun bled across the adow and cast everything in deep, ominous reds and golds as the winds of coming battle whispered through the tall grass.
However, beside him, Virelle's deanor darkened palpably with each word, and her body started trembling slightly.
And it was not with fear but with a rage so potent it seed to crackle around her like gathering lightning.
Especially when the so-called ducal prince spat out the word bastard towards Ethan, her anger turned volcanic.
"I would not ask Princess Virelle, obviously," Aram sneered, "as she is the property of Prince Avi—"
That was the final straw.
Without hesitation, Virelle's hand tore off her veil in one fluid and almost savage motion and flung it aside.
Her once-composed features twisted into a mask of furious contempt as she pointed a single and defiant middle finger straight at Aram's stunned face.
"Fuck you, you bastard," she spat, her voice as cold and sharp as a dagger forged from winter itself.
"Shut up this instant, you muddle-headed creep."
Her raw and rciless words struck like a slap across the face.
He was utterly stunned as he simply couldn't imagine how the noble and beautiful Virelle Eralith could speak in such a manner.
"How dare you speak to us this way?" she snarled as her entire body started trembling with unrestrained fury.
"Your perverted father is a lecherous freak, your mother a shaless slut!"
Her voice rose in a crescendo of disdain and fury that echoed across the adow.
"Your precious Duke 'daddy' is nothing in my eyes, he isn't even fit to lift the shoes of my father and master! And you…" she spat the word like venom,
"you dare talk about taking a family mber of the Sangrial as your loyal vassal?"
Her laughter was mocking and almost feral.
"Hah! If you're going to dream, at least make it realistic, you pathetic piece of shit!"
Even Ethan, who had witnessed countless battles and situations, blinked once in mild astonishnt.
He had not been present when Virelle had abused that perverted and useless young master in the Imperial Blade Hall last night, so he didn't know her capacity to curse.
Ethan simply didn't expect Virelle to erupt with such raw fury, nor to shatter the suffocating chains of noble decorum she carried at all tis in such a spectacular way.
Across the clearing, the previously pompous young demon heir stood frozen with his jaw slack and his expression one of sheer disbelief.
The notion that a princess and a woman raised amid silks and dark thrones could speak like a street shrew had totally shattered his fragile little worldview.
His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, like a fish gasping for breath, before the aning of her words finally clawed its way into his mind.
And when it did, humiliation and fury surged through him like a tidal wave.
In the deep and rotting recesses of his mind, Aram recalled his whispered promise he had made to Declan earlier in the brothel about gifting him the beautiful veiled girl as a spoil of victory.
But now, knowing her true identity… the fiancée of Prince Avi, the cherished son of the Abyssal Dominion's Emperor, he had understood the gravity of what he had stumbled into, the mont he had seen her in the flesh just monts before.
He had instantly concluded that capturing her would not exile or disgrace but a certain death.
The Empire of the Abyssal Dominion would hunt him down across oceans and continents and raze his bloodline to dust for daring to touch their pride.
He knew that even his status of a ducal prince would not save him.
And yet, his reason crumbled under the weight of the sha Virelle had thrust upon him.
Pride and anger eclipsed all his fear, and all thoughts of consequence were tossed into the abyss of his wounded ego.
He glared at her with a twisted snarl and then swung his gaze to Ethan, as if blaming him for this unbearable humiliation.
"You—boy!" he barked as spittle flew from his lips.
"This is your last chance to kneel before this young lord!
Bring that cat girl too, and maybe—maybe—I will be generous enough to spare your lives!"
His finger jabbed toward Virelle, and his voice turned thick with the kind of lewd malice that even made the skin of his lackeys crawl.
"And as for this slut..."
He swung his attention to Declan, whose greedy eyes lit up like a carrion bird spotting fresh at.
"I promise she will be yours the mont we capture her, after I have had my fill."
His words slithered through the air like poison.
The mont those vile words left his mouth, Virelle snapped her head towards Ethan and her eyes beca ablaze with righteous fury, like a queen demanding blood.
"Brother Ethan!" she shouted as she no longer cared about pretense, and no longer hid his real na.
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