THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR-Chapter 300: THE CHOCOLATE MYSTERY.

High above the bustling capital, on a grand balcony overlooking both the city and a meticulously maintained private garden, Count Nicalo lounged in an ornate chair. The newsletter lay open on the marble table before him, alongside a delicate porcelain tea service. Several maids moved silently around the balcony, ensuring every comfort was attended to.

Across from him sat a woman of striking beauty, though half her face remained concealed behind an elegant mask of silver filigree and sapphires. Her posture was perfect, her movements graceful as she reached for her teacup.

"What do you make of this, Azaroth?" she asked, her voice melodic yet tinged with an undercurrent of something ancient and powerful.

The man's pleasant expression hardened instantly. "How many times must I remind you, Vaesha? Do not use that name, especially not here." He gestured vaguely at the maids. "Get used to addressing me as Count Nicalo, or don't address me at all."

The woman—Vaesha—rolled her visible eye, the vivid amber iris seeming to glow in the afternoon light. "Very well, Count Nicalo," she emphasized the name with barely concealed mockery. "What do you think about this recent dungeon raid? Salomonis has likely obtained the Codex of Solomon by now. He possesses both artifacts that could potentially open a rift to our world."

Nicalo lifted a small brown square from a silver platter and examined it curiously before taking a delicate bite. He chewed thoughtfully, then sipped his tea before responding.

"A strange dessert, this 'chocolate.' Rich, bitter, yet somehow pleasing. The humans have outdone themselves." He set the remainder down and returned his attention to the matter at hand. "As for the raid, David's influence is written all over it. I can sense it even from this distance."

"So we abandon our operations at Castrum Belli et Ignis?" Vaesha inquired, her tone carefully neutral.

"For the time being, yes. David's merits with the Archon of Lysora County will give him certain... protections. Moreover, he knows what I am." A smile spread across Nicalo's handsome face, though it never reached his eyes.

"The knowledge that I devoured the real Count Nicalo will certainly come to light, and the Archon will undoubtedly seek vengeance for their uncle."

He recalled the moment with fond clarity—the terror in the real Nicalo's eyes as his human disguise fell away, the satisfying crunch of bones between his jaws, the sweet taste of aristocratic blood that had sustained his transformation. The memory brought a brief flicker of his true form—multiple eyes beneath his human visage, quickly suppressed.

"That doesn't mean you've failed," Vaesha pointed out, leaning forward. "There are other approaches."

"Indeed." Nicalo nodded, lifting his teacup again. "A frontal assassination would be ideal, if not for the Archon's sudden disappearance. The timing is... inconvenient."

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"Do you think David is involved in that as well?"

Nicalo's cup paused halfway to his lips, his eyes darkening to an inhuman shade of crimson for the briefest moment. "It doesn't matter. David must die, no matter the cost."

A tense silence fell between them, broken only by the gentle clink of porcelain as Nicalo set his cup down with perfect precision.

"What of the followers of the Insane Goddess?" Vaesha finally asked. "They grow impatient for results."

Nicalo waved a dismissive hand. "We maintain silent cooperation for now. Their goddess may be an insane entity, but we would be fools to forget she is the First Daughter of Corruption. Her power, fractured though it may be, remains considerable."

He stood, moving to the balcony's edge to gaze out at the city below—a city of humans, blissfully unaware of the predators walking among them, wearing the skins of their kind.

"Patience, Vaesha. We have existed for millennia; we can wait a little longer. The Codex, the iris, David, the Archon—all pieces in a game that has only just begun."

Behind him, Vaesha's visible eye narrowed, her fingers tracing the edge of her mask as she contemplated the man before her—not a man at all, but something ancient and terrible wearing a nobleman's countenance like an ill-fitting glove.

"And what of the chocolate?" she asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Nicalo turned, a real smile touching his lips for the first time. "A most unexpected development. Perhaps this world has more to offer than we initially thought."

The sun began its descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the balcony as the two inhuman entities continued their plotting, while below them, the city buzzed with news of heroes, dungeons, and mysterious sweets—unaware of the darkness gathering in their midst.

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Far across the city, in a discreet building with no markings to suggest its importance, rows of peculiar plants stretched toward the ceiling in vertical layouts. Each cocoa plant was encircled by softly glowing magical arrays—intricate patterns of circles and hexagons pulsing with arcane energy that accelerated growth and enhanced properties that would otherwise take decades to cultivate naturally.

Alchemist Revan Thorne, his gray hair tied back in a practical knot, leaned close to examine one of the specimens. His weathered fingers traced the air just above a particularly robust plant, careful not to disturb the delicate magical field surrounding it.

"Extraordinary," he murmured to himself, making notes on a small parchment. "Where in the world did our patron acquire such a unique plant? The cultivation method is strange, yet revolutionary."

The traditional farming techniques he'd studied for decades seemed primitive compared to this vertical system that maximized space while minimizing resource consumption. The plants thrived in these artificial conditions, producing beans with properties he'd never encountered in his forty years as a master alchemist.

The soft click of heels against stone floor announced a visitor. Revan turned to see a woman in an elegant dark dress, her raven hair cascading down her back in perfect waves. She was accompanied by a knight whose imposing presence filled the doorway—a mountain of a man whose hand never strayed far from his sword hilt.

Revan immediately straightened, offering a respectful bow. "Lady Seraphina, what an unexpected pleasure. We weren't expecting your visit until next week."

Seraphina's lips curved into a slight smile as her eyes surveyed the laboratory. "How goes the research, Alchemist Thorne? Have you made progress accelerating the life cycle?"

"I'm afraid not, my lady. While we've stabilized the growth pattern, the maturation process still requires the full three years. The magical signatures resist further compression without compromising the unique properties that make the final product so... distinctive."

Seraphina nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "Pack your essential equipment, Alchemist. You'll be meeting the man responsible for these plants within the week."

Revan nearly dropped his quill. "The creator himself? But I thought—"

"You thought the origin would remain a mystery?" Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "Knowledge is power, Alchemist Thorne, and this particular knowledge is too valuable to entrust to intermediaries indefinitely."

The alchemist glanced around at his laboratory, mind racing with questions. "What manner of man could develop such a system? These cultivation techniques are unlike anything in the imperial archives."

A genuine smile spread across Seraphina's face, her eyes gleaming with something that might have been pride. "You'll discover that soon enough."

"I, for one, cannot wait to see my beloved David again." she thought.

The mysterious figure hung in the air, heavy with implications that Revan couldn't begin to decipher. Yet something in Seraphina's tone—a mixture of affection and something darker—sent a shiver down his spine.

The knight shifted his stance slightly, reminding everyone of his silent presence.

"I suggest you prepare quickly, Alchemist," Seraphina added, turning to leave. "Opportunities to meet a true innovator are rare in one's lifetime."

As her dark dress disappeared through the doorway, Revan turned back to the cocoa plants, seeing them with new eyes. What kind of man was he, who commanded such respect from a woman like Seraphina, and who possessed knowledge that had eluded the Empire's finest minds for centuries?

The magical arrays pulsed in rhythm, as if counting down to an inevitable confluence of powers that Revan Thorne, for all his alchemical wisdom, could not begin to comprehend.