THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR-Chapter 317: A NEW ADDITION

The Crooked Spire Inn came into view just as the afternoon sun reached its peak. David had taken a circuitous route back, avoiding the busier thoroughfares while carrying his unexpected acquisition. The elf remained unconscious in his arms, her slight frame weighing almost nothing—a testament to long-term malnutrition and neglect.

He paused before entering, adjusting his burden and composing his expression. The elf's breath whispered against his neck, shallow but steady. Her burns and scars, visible even beneath the crude slave wrappings, told a story of systematic torture rather than battlefield injuries. Someone had wanted her to suffer before breaking.

David pushed through the door with his shoulder, entering the common room where a scattering of midday patrons nursed drinks and picked at simple meals. A few eyes drifted toward him, briefly registering the bundle in his arms before returning to their own concerns. In Valemir, a man carrying a newly purchased slave warranted no particular attention.

The innkeeper glanced up from wiping down the bar, her only reaction a slight raise of an eyebrow. "Need anything for that?" she asked, gesturing vaguely toward the elf.

"Clean water and bandages sent to my room," David replied, already moving toward the stairs.

"Two silver extra," the innkeeper called after him.

David didn't bother responding, taking the steps two at a time. He'd expected Luna to sense his return—her connection to him as Aetenus giving her awareness of his proximity—but he was still surprised to find her waiting at the door to their room, opening it before he could reach for the handle.

Her silver eyes widened fractionally at the sight of the elf. "What is this?" she asked, stepping aside to let him enter.

Inside, Elara sat at the small desk reviewing notes from their journey. She looked up, instantly alert. "By the gods, David," she exclaimed, rising to her feet. "What have you done?"

David crossed to the bed, laying the elf down with unexpected care. "Opportunity presented itself," he said simply, as though acquiring half-dead elves was a routine occurrence.

Elara approached, her practiced eye assessing the elf's condition. "These injuries..." she murmured, professional concern temporarily overriding her surprise. "Some are recent, others years old. Systematic torture."

Luna circled the bed, observing with detached curiosity. She extended a hand toward the elf's face, stopping just short of touching the burns. "Not familiar," she stated. "This being's essence is... strange."

"She's an elf," David said simply, revealing nothing more.

"I can see that," Elara replied dryly. "But why is she here? What possessed you to purchase a slave, of all things?"

David arranged his features into a carefully neutral expression. "A hunch."

"A hunch?" Elara repeated incredulously. "You risked our cover, our mission, on a hunch?"

David kept his attention on the elf, checking her pulse with methodical precision. "There's something about her. Something important."

Luna continued her inspection, seemingly untroubled by Elara's concerns. "You sensed value," she said to David, not a question but an observation.

"Yes," David answered, offering nothing more.

Elara's expression shifted from alarm to something like exasperated fondness. "Oh, David," she sighed, misreading his calculated vagueness as youthful impulsivity. "For all your maturity, sometimes you still don't understand how this world works. Sympathy is a luxury we can't afford right now."

David allowed her misinterpretation to stand, finding it more useful than correction. "It wasn't sympathy," he insisted coolly. "Instinct. Nothing more."

"Could this be related to your seer abilities?" Elara asked, lowering her voice. "A premonition perhaps?"

"No," David replied firmly, seizing the opportunity to further misdirect. "Just a feeling that she might be useful. I can't explain it better than that."

A knock at the door interrupted their debate. The innkeeper's assistant, a gangly youth with unfortunate acne, delivered a basin of steaming water, clean cloths, and a small jar of what appeared to be medicinal salve.

"Innkeeper says to tell you she added herbs for infection," the boy explained, setting the items on the bedside table. His eyes darted curiously toward the elf before David's cold stare drove him from the room.

With the interruption past, Elara sighed heavily. "What's done is done. But this complicates everything, David. We can't afford complications."

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"She stays," David stated, his tone brooking no argument. "At minimum, she might prove a valuable resource."

"And at worst," Elara countered, "a distraction we don't need."

David began methodically cleaning the elf's more recent wounds, his movements precise and impersonal yet not unkind. "The decision is made," he said without looking up. "If you're concerned about our cover, consider that having an elven slave actually reinforces our assumed identities as opportunistic adventurers from the outer provinces. It's an expected extravagance."

Elara watched him work for several moments, her frustration gradually giving way to resigned acceptance. "You've clearly thought this through," she conceded, though her tone suggested she remained unconvinced. "But she's your responsibility. If this creates problems, you'll be the one to solve them."

"Naturally," David agreed, his attention remaining on his task.

Luna moved to assist, wordlessly taking a cloth and mimicking David's careful ministrations. There was something almost mechanical in her movements, as though she were studying and replicating the concept of caregiving rather than feeling any genuine compassion.

"She is damaged extensively," Luna observed. "Functionality impaired."

"Physical damage can be addressed," David replied. "Yue will have solutions when we meet her."

Elara retreated to the desk, deliberately distancing herself from what she clearly viewed as David's reckless decision. "And what of her mental state? Slaves who've undergone such treatment rarely recover fully."

David paused in his work, considering. "We'll discover what remains of her mind soon enough. For now, physical stabilization takes priority."

Almost in response to their discussion, the elf's eyelids fluttered. Her breathing pattern changed, becoming more irregular as consciousness began to return. David immediately shifted position, ensuring he would be in her direct line of sight when she opened her eyes.

"Move a bit back," he instructed Luna. "Too many presences might trigger panic."

Luna complied, retreating to the shadows near the wall where her golden eyes watched with analytical interest. Elara remained at her desk, observing from a distance.

The elf's first return to consciousness was brief—her eyes opened to mere slits, revealing irises of deep violet that had lost none of their striking color despite her condition. Those eyes, unfocused and clouded with pain, moved aimlessly before closing again. Her lips moved in silent words, possibly a prayer or incantation in her native tongue.

"She's delirious," Elara commented. "Fever from infection, most likely."