Viscount Druitt Novels & Stories

We were here to fill graves, not ranks. A sudden hush fell over the courtyard as I stood waiting for orders. That’s when I saw him. The Alpha Prince of Nethian. Lucian Draxon. He moved through the crowd like a shadow, tall and impossibly composed, his black hair gleaming beneath the pale sun. Tattoos coiled up his arms and neck like living vines, disappearing beneath his dark uniform. His violet eyes—unnatural and otherworldly—swept over the conscripts, cold and calculating.

Drake was at a loss of words, soon he realized, he was delaying the announcement, so he quickly pulled through and proclaimed out loud, " THE W-I-I-I-I-I-I-INNER O-F THE FIRST BOUT IS VIS DEOLIS!!!" A notification soon appeared, which gave Vis to have an impression like of a Cheshire Cat. ***** You have defeated a C - rank user, do you want to acquire the awards? ***** ------------------------------- ---------------------

Druji’s eyes were widened as soon as she heard the question. “W-what are you talking about?” She pretended not to know what had happened. “I saw how you controlled the chest to hit Raven’s head. Tell me, are you a witch?” Vivar insisted. He didn’t want to condemn her. He just wanted Druji to be honest with him. “No! Why are you accusing me?! You have no right to question me like this! I’ll tell my brother to fire you.” She turned to grab the door handle. Before she could twist it, Vivar halted her hands with his.

He was already leading two hundred elite members to Rivenesco. “Does she want to use Harold Grant to get rid of me?” Dustin sneered. This was not the first time the Wyatt sisters had tried to harm him. “My Liege, should I intercept them and send them away?” Drake asked. Harold Grant heading to this place with two hundred elite members of the Verdant Gang would honestly frighten many people. But Drake could handle them alone. That was how confident he was as a sovereign grade fighter. “Nope.” Dustin smiled teasingly. “I want to meet them personally.”

He wanted to see his Dhara at any cost. "Don't play with me. Come to me" Dhruv screamed as tears rolled down his eyes. "Mishty, it's was Dhara right?" Dhruv asked when he saw Mishty there wearing a normal dress. Mishty nodded as she wiped her tears. These days Mishty never spoke with Dhruv. She can never forgive Dhruv for what he did with her. But seeing his vulnerable state, she feels like crying. He is not an evil person.

I inquired graciously. “It does not concern you, dear sir, with such interesting friends, as I have no intentions of giving you time for that, but your voluminous associate might have a couple of minutes to bequeath his last testament—in short.” “I am Ronald Bernard Muerlath! Viscount Muerlath, you lout! And I challenge you to a duel, right here and now!” I snarled. “And I am Alexander Leonard Radenor. You may simply call me Your Highness, Viscount Muerlath... What about your friend?”

And yet, beneath that cool exterior, there's an undeniable danger lurking beneath. What is wrong with this man? And more importantly—what the hell is wrong with me? I shake off the feeling as Ruther gets pulled away by his father, leaving me alone at the table. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Driz, Ruther's cousin." I turn, meeting piercing blue eyes. He offers me a handshake—his expression amused, confident, almost playful. I take his hand. "Diana Cueva." He smirks. "Ruther's really lucky to have a goddess for a fiancée." His voice drops slightly, teasing. "If you weren't with him, I'd probably pursue you r*thlessly."

Zach and Dexter, among many others, grew exhilarated. A group of tall and strong western-looking men with blonde hair and blue eyes stormed inside. They wore layers and layers of clothing, and some even had fake white hair on. The one leading the group was a middle-aged western man. One look was enough to discern that he had been to war. He carried a powerful aura with him. He was none other than the ambassador of The Empire of the Sun that Never Sets, Viscount Rubert, in the flesh. He had another identity attached to his name, and that was the ex-vice commander of the Knights Templar of the country itself.

Dhruv," rebuked Shikhar. "I mean, what an honour to meet you Emperor Mithraos, Warrior Eloy. I am prince Dhruv Malvan," said Dhruv bowing. Mithraos was amused, so was Eloy. "At ease, young princeling," said Mithraos. Samarth broke into a laugh at that. "Oh, he has got wit," said Samar approvingly. Dhruv was practically bouncing forgetting all decorum now. "Go on, mouth off," said Rishi amused himself.

Disreputable Adjective: Not respectable in character or appearance. "This is BBC Radio 4 and here is the news read by Chris Aldridge." "The artist son of The Duke of Shettleham, Jasper Neyve, who is the Marquis Prybourn was photographed by the press early this morning rescuing a runaway horse at the gates of Hyde Park. It seemed that the rescue happened on the spur of the moment as Marquis Prybourn was naked except for a pair of women's red silk and lace underwear. He ran across the road and jumped on the back of the horse to stop it, running into traffic. When asked about his attire, the Marquess said that he jumped out of bed and his girlfriend's pants were the first thing he picked up. He