Chapter 357 - Three Hundred And Fifty Six

Chapter 357: Chapter Three Hundred And Fifty Six

The room was quiet for a single second before the loud crash broke the silence.

Lord Reed threw everything that was on his desk to the floor in anger.

Wooden boxes, paper scrolls, ink jars, seals, and maps went flying through the air. They slammed against the floor with sharp, loud noises. The ink jar shattered into small pieces. Dark liquid spilled quickly across the gray stones, creeping like a stain over the dry paper pages scattered near his boots.

Lord Reed did not look down at the mess. He held the edge of his desk in anger, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself, to compose himself. His fingers dug into the wood until his skin turned white from the pressure. His chest rose up and down fast and hard. Cold air went in through his nose and came out of his mouth in hot breaths. He pressed his lips together in a tight line. He forced his body to stand still. He knew that if he lost his head now, everything he had built for his family over thirty years would be lost in a single day. He had to think. He had to stay calm.

After a few minutes, he looked to the side. His eyes were cold, filled with red blood vessels from lack of sleep and stress.

Standing near the corner of the room, his aide was slightly trembling.

The young man was pressed flat against the wall, as if he wanted to shrink and vanish into the shadows. His face was pale, almost white like chalk. His m hands were gripped together in front of his chest, shaking so much that his fingernails bit into his skin. His breath came out in short, scared gasps.

He had just delivered the news that General Howe has been taken into royal custody.

Lord Reed stood up taller. His shadow stretched across the broken items on the floor. The news about General Howe was a sharp knife to his chest. General Howe knew too much. If the king’s guard used physical pain on General Howe during questioning, the general might talk. If he talked, the entire crown would turn its weapons toward the five great houses especially House Reed.

Lord Reed spoke, "What about Damon?"

His voice was low, deep, and rough. It sounded like two stones rubbing together.

The aide swallowed hard. His neck moved up and down with great difficulty. He cleared his throat twice before he could make a sound.

The aide replied, "We don’t know. The Benson’s mansion is very unusually quiet. They aren’t saying if the general is dead or alive."

The aide took a small step forward, keeping his head bent down toward the ruined floor. He did not dare to look Lord Reed in the eyes.

"My Lord," the aide added in a tiny, shaky voice, "our spotters were standing outside the Benson walls all afternoon. They saw no servants entering or leaving through the main gate. The gates are locked shut. The guards are double in number, but nobody is talking. When our messenger knocked on the side door to ask a simple question, no one answered. It is like the whole house is holding its breath."

Lord Reed felt a sharp cold feeling in his belly. A quiet house in times of trouble was never a good sign. It meant people were hiding things. It meant people were preparing or planning something behind closed doors.

Lord Reed murmured under his breath, "That is what is unsettling about this situation."

He stepped over a broken wooden frame on the floor. His leather boot made a soft crunching sound as it stepped on a piece of glass. He walked slowly toward the wide glass window at the far end of his study.

Outside, the city of Daril was dark. The night sky was clear. The distant stone towers of the royal castle stood high against the dark sky. Down below, the street lamps gave off small spots of yellow light, but the streets were empty. The city looked calm, but Lord Reed knew that under the quiet surface, a storm was coming. The royal guards were likely moving through the dark streets right now, searching homes, stopping carriages, and checking passes.

He stood by the window for a long time. His forehead almost touched the cool glass. He thought about his brother. He thought about the secret agreements they had made in dark rooms late at night. He thought about the money they had moved. If the king’s men found even one single document bearing the wax seal of House Reed, it would mean death for everyone who carried the Reed name. Old men, young women, and small children would all be dragged to the central square.

He turned around slowly. His face was set like hard stone.

He took a deep breath and spoke, "Burn anything that ties House Reed to my brother. Make sure the investigation doesn’t come back to us."

The aide raised his head slightly, his eyes wide with fear and surprise. "Everything, my Lord? Even the family records from years ago?"

"Everything that traces General Howe back to House Reed" Lord Reed said, his voice cold and flat. "Go down to the underground archive room right now. Take two men you trust with your life. Do not use the main staircase. Use the back servant steps. Light the big iron stove in the basement. Throw every paper, every note, every scroll, and every map that mentions my brother’s name into the fire. Watch them turn to black ash with your own eyes. If a single page survives, I will throw you into the fire after them."

The aide bowed quickly, bending his back so low his nose almost touched his knees. "Yes, my Lord! Immediately! I will do it myself!"

The aide turned his body toward the door, ready to run down the hallway to execute the terrifying command. But as his hand touched the cold metal door handle, he stopped. He bit his lower lip hard. He turned his head back slowly, his eyes full of worry.

"What about the young lady?" the aide asked.