Chapter 358 - Three Hundred And Fifty Seven

Chapter 358: Chapter Three Hundred And Fifty Seven

Lord Reed stopped moving. His hands hung down by his sides. He closed his eyes for a brief moment then exhaled.

A long, weary sigh came out of his chest. He felt very old in that moment. The skin around his eyes looked deep and wrinkled under the dim candlelight. He opened his eyes.

"I’ll call for a meeting with the four great houses of Daril. Her crimes are too much for me alone to ask for a pardon. I will need their intervention."

This is because if the king signed an execution order, only the combined voice of all five great houses could stop the execution axe from falling.

The aide nodded.

Lord Reed dismissed him with a short wave of his hand.

The aide left, stepping quietly through the doorway and closing the door behind him without making a single sound.

Once the aide was gone, Lord Reed walked over to a small table near the wall. He picked up a plain box containing matches and a small candle. He walked back to his desk, picked up a single letter that had remained on the edge, and held it over the open candle flame. The paper caught fire quickly. Bright red and orange light danced across his tired face. He watched the paper burn until the flame reached his fingers, then he dropped the burning black piece into the empty metal bin on the floor. He sat down in his chair, put his face in his hands, and waited in the dark.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, the night was just as quiet, but the air felt different.

Earlier that evening, Allen had sent a courier to the Benson’s mansion to deliver the final report of the store.

The courier had taken the folder, placed it inside his inner coat pocket, mounted his horse, and ridden fast through the cobblestone streets. He arrived at the Benson estate just as the sun was setting behind the high mountains. The guard at the gate checked his face, took the leather folder, and carried it upstairs to the second floor of the mansion.

Later that evening, Camilla was dressed in her nightgown. Her hair was untied, resting softly over her shoulders and down her back.

She sat at the desk, checking Allen’s progress in the store.

A small fire burned quietly in the stone fireplace on one side of the room, giving off a warm red glow. On the wide desk sat a tall oil lamp. The small yellow flame inside the glass tube lit up the papers spread out before her.

Camilla sat upright in the chair, reading through Allen’s handwriting page by page.

Allen had done an excellent job. The report showed that the store was making a steady profit. The sales of the fabrics had increased by twenty percent over the last two weeks. The storage costs were low, and the shop workers had all been paid their weekly wages on time.

Camilla moved her eyes down the neat rows of numbers. She double-checked Allen’s math. Every sum was correct.

She felt a small sense of relief in her heart. In the middle of all the political danger, chaos, and dark secrets surrounding House Reed and General Howe, this small business was working properly. It was the only thing that felt normal in this whole situation.

The night grew colder outside. The wind blew against the glass windows, making a faint rattling sound.

A maid knocked on the door.

The sound was soft and polite—three quiet taps against the wood.

Camilla spoke, "Come in."

Her voice was calm, gentle, and clear in the room.

The maid entered with a glass and a pitcher of water.

Nina stepped into the room, using her foot to push the door slightly behind her. She looked at Camilla with respect. She knew that Lady Camilla had been sitting at that desk for many hours without eating or resting.

Nina carefully poured some cold water into the clear glass, making sure not to spill a single drop on Allen’s reports. The sound of water filling the glass was crisp and fresh in the quiet air. Nina then stepped back two steps, folded her hands over her white apron, and bowed her head low.

Camilla gave her a small, kind nod of her head. Nina did not say a word. She turned around silently, stepped out into the dark hallway, and closed the door behind her.

Camilla continue her work.

She picked up the glass and took a slow drink of the cool water. It refreshed her dry throat. She set the glass back down on the tray, picked up the feather pen, and turned to the next page of the store report.

This page detailed the future orders for next month. Camilla read every word carefully. She wrote small notes in the margins of the paper, using simple words to give Allen instructions on how much money to spend on transport and how many guards to hire for the cargo wagons.

Hours had passed.

The flame inside the desk’s oil lamp began to flicker and grow smaller as the oil ran low.

Long, dark shadows stretched across the floor and climbed up the tall walls of her bedroom. The fire in the fireplace had died down, leaving only glowing red coals resting under grey ash.

The air in the room was growing noticeably colder.

Camilla closed the reports and rubbed her eyes.

She pushed the final leather binder to the center of her desk. Her eyes felt heavy, dry, and sore from staring at small numbers under dim yellow light for so long. She leaned back against the soft cushion of her chair. She lifted both of her arms high up into the air above her head, extending her fingers wide to relieve the stiffness in her shoulders and spine. Her back made a tiny popping sound as her muscles loosened. She closed her eyes tight, opened her mouth, and let out a deep, tired yawn.

She brought her arms back down slowly, resting her hands flat on the cool surface of her desk. She took a slow, deep breath, preparing to stand up, turn off the oil lamp, and walk over to the bed.

"Camilla"

The room was still. The wind outside had stopped blowing. She was sure she heard something. A faint voice

"Camilla," The voice called again, this time a bit audible.