Free Web NovelChapter 375: Chapter 375
It took a long while for the guards to bring the fires under control, the night air thick and tainted with the clawing stench of smoke and soot. Ash drifted like gray snowflakes through the darkness, settling on their clothes and hair. One by one, the frantic shouts gave way to the hiss of water meeting flame.
When at last they quenched the final flicker of what had once been a ravaging inferno, the men collectively released a weary breath. Their relief, however, came at a cost. They had all partially neglected their duty and have been drawn from their posts for far too long.
As the panic stirred by the fire slowly ebbed, a subtle change crept over them. The soft strains of music that had earlier drifted from the banquet hall had vanished. The night, once alive with merriment, now lay unnaturally still.
A wrongness lingered in the air, clinging to it like a dark stain upon pristine silk, impossible to ignore. The silence felt heavy, almost oppressive, pressing against their ears until it roared louder than the flames ever had.
Several guards broke away from the others and hurried back toward their posts at the grand doors leading into the banquet hall. They collectively stormed down the corridors, the sound of their approach echoing too loudly in the quiet. But just before they reached the entrance, they halted as one.
There, stark against the stone floor, was a bloodied footprint. It was large, likely a man’s and the blood had not yet fully dried. One of the guards crouched to examine it more closely. The others stood behind him, their unease etched plainly across their faces. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the lingering smell of smoke that still clung to their nostrils.
The doors loomed ahead of them, tall and imposing. None of them were prepared for what lay beyond. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
After a tense moment, the guard straightened. Swallowing hard, he stepped forward and shoved the heavy doors open.
The sight that greeted them was the stuff of nightmares. Bodies of wealthy aristocrats lay strewn across the hall. Some had collapsed in their chairs, others were slumped forward over the banquet table, goblets overturned, wine and blood mingling in grotesque rivulets. Their eyes stared blankly, wide and sightless.
But it was not only the nobles who had been slaughtered. Among them lay familiar faces, the house staff who had served this household faithfully for years, the musicians whose melodies had filled the hall only hours before, and the entertainers hired for the evening’s revelry. They, too, had partaken in the tampered wine. Their bodies were twisted where they had fallen, expressions frozen in agony.
And the blood. There was so much of it. It pooled thickly across the floor, creeping into the grooves between the stones and dripping sluggishly from the edges of the banquet table. The scent was suffocating.
It was a sight that would scar any soul who beheld it.
The guard who had opened the doors tore his gaze away and turned sharply to one of the others, his voice tight but commanding.
"Gather as many guards as you can," he ordered. "Search the entire house and scour the grounds for whoever is responsible. Then inform the rest of what has taken place here."
He did not wait for a response before stepping carefully into the hall, boots splashing faintly in blood as he moved deeper inside to assess the full extent of the carnage.
The others followed suit, spreading out among the fallen. They moved from body to body, kneeling to check for a pulse, though hope diminished with each lifeless form they touched. So far, none had survived.
Their hearts grew heavier with every step. Though they had held no personal ties to most of the victims, guilt settled upon their shoulders like iron chains. Had they not been distracted by the fire, had they remained at their posts, perhaps this massacre might have been prevented.
It was one of them who eventually found Kaz Rycoff. His body had been cast aside carelessly upon the floor, discarded like a soiled rag. A deep slit marred his throat, the wound wide and merciless. Blood still seeped sluggishly from it, staining the surface beneath him. His once-vibrant presence had been reduced into a cold lifeless husk.
He was dead, just like the rest.
The doors burst open once more, and a breathless guard rushed inside.
"I found the housekeeper and one of the cooks," he reported urgently. "The cook is dead, but the housekeeper has lost a great deal of blood. He needs immediate aid."
Orders were dispatched at once.
Messengers rode to Lord Rycoff that night bearing a written missive detailing the horrors that had unfolded within those walls. Similar letters were also sent to the families of the nobles, the servants, and the entertainers who had perished. freewebnøvel.coɱ
Lord Davien Rycoff returned home the very next day upon receiving the dreadful news. He pushed his horse to the limit, urging the exhausted animal onward in a desperate bid to reach his estate as swiftly as possible. The wind lashed against his face as he rode, but he scarcely felt it. His heart pounded violently in his throat.
When the gates of his residence finally came into view, dread coiled tighter within him.
He dismounted in a haze, nearly stumbling as his boots touched the ground. He ignored the guard who attempted to speak to him, brushing past without acknowledging him as he hurried inside.
His footsteps echoed frantically through the corridors. His fingertips were numb and trembling. He had read the missive more than a dozen times since receiving it, yet the words upon the parchment didn’t feel real and they refused to register in his mind. The words seemed foreign to him.
It claimed that his son was dead. Slaughtered savagely alongside the rest of the guests.
It could not be true. No matter what the ink declared, no matter what the trembling messenger had sworn, Lord Rycoff could not accept it.
Once inside the house, he called out for his son.
