Free Web NovelChapter 154: Reaping the Fruits of What You’ve Planted
When Garret Darksoul woke up in his bed the next day, safe and sound, he was relieved. The nightmare had been frightening.
But when he opened the curtains of the large window in his room, which had a panoramic view of Klento City, he saw a large column of smoke coming from the center of the city, and it certainly wasn’t coming from a chimney.
"Thorne!!!" called Garret, his voice carrying an urgency he rarely showed.
The bedroom door opened almost immediately, revealing Thorne, Garret’s faithful assistant, a tall young man, always impeccably dressed, with thin-framed glasses that gave him an even more intellectual appearance.
"Sir, good morning. Has something happened?" Thorne asked, apparently a bit confused.
"Get a wagon ready. We’re going to the harbor." Garret ordered and dressed quickly.
Minutes later, Garret descended the stairs of the imposing Darksoul Mansion, a building of Gothic architecture, with black stone walls adorned with luxurious decorations and large, antique chandeliers that illuminated the room with a soft light.
The maids and butlers, accustomed to Garret’s calm demeanor, were surprised to see Garret’s haste in his steps, ignoring everything they offered him.
The carriage was waiting for him at the main entrance, and Thorne, who had quickly prepared everything, politely opened the door for Garret to get in.
Garret got into the car, and before Thorne could sit down next to the driver, he gave the order.
"Hurry, Thorne. We have no time to lose."
The wagon began to move, crossing the busy early morning streets that Klento always had. The noise of the wheels on the cobblestones of the street and the creaking of the timbers of Garret’s cart were not the only ones.
As they approached the harbor, the column of smoke grew thicker and larger, and the smell of burning permeated the air in the streets.
When they finally reached the scene, Garret got out of the wagon in a hurry. His eyes fixed on the scene of destruction before him, Garret saw that the largest warehouse he owned in the port and the entire city, a solid structure of reinforced wood, had been reduced to smoking ruins. Heat still emanated from the embers, while water mages in their blue robes used their powers to control the remaining flames.
The smell of burning wood and ash was strong, and Thorne could see the anger on Garret’s face.
The short, chubby man knew who had done this.
’Victor!’ he concluded.
But Garret wasn’t angry with Victor. He couldn’t be. Victor had only retaliated against Garret by stealing from him and leaving him vulnerable. Garret’s genuine anger was directed at the incompetent hunters he had hired to deal with Victor. They had obviously failed miserably, and now he was paying the price.
An experienced, hard-eyed city guard was in charge of the scene, coordinating fire control and also fending off the legion of onlookers.
"What happened here?" Garret asked in a loud, commanding voice.
The guard, a burly man with scars from past battles, looked at Garret with no particular deference, despite the financial and political power Garret held.
"Fire, Mr. Darksoul. But we found no traces of fire magic. It must have been an accident with a lamp." The guard replied, jotting down a few things in a small notebook.
Garret clenched his fists. He knew someone was responsible, but even he couldn’t publicly accuse Victor Shieldman without starting a political war with the Selvarum family. He had to keep control and think about his next move. frёewebηovel.cѳm
"Did the water mages manage to save anything?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Not much so far, sir. Most of it was destroyed." The guard replied without any apparent emotion. He was a professional, a veteran of the streets of Klento.
Garret nodded, controlling the anger that was boiling inside him. He needed answers, and fast.
"Thorne, I want a complete report on what we lost," Garret instructed. "There were guards and personnel here. Find them and contact our allies as well and see what can be done to make up for the delays." Garret ordered. His mind was already working on how to rebuild what was destroyed.
Thorne nodded, acknowledging the task at hand, and promptly shifted his focus towards organizing the gathered information.
"The damn hunters failed. They failed miserably." Garret said as he went back to the car. "Well, at least they should all be dead by now, so at least I’ll save the small fortune I was going to pay for their services."
*
At Selvarum Manor, Victor, Bel, Luísa and the others were quietly drinking their coffee as if nothing had happened.
Suddenly, Gracela Selvarum dropped her cutlery on the table and put both hands together, apparently tired or disappointed about something.
Luísa politely placed her fork next to the plate of scrambled eggs and asked:
"Gracela, what’s wrong? Did something happen?"
The yellow-eyed, green-haired woman took a deep breath. "Well, if no one’s going to ask, I’m going to: who the hell is that bruised man eating with us this morning?" She asked, pointing to the corner across from where Luísa was sitting.
In the indicated seat, a thin, old man with gray hair and a small goatee was eating with difficulty because he could only use one arm to eat while the other was bandaged. This man stopped the spoonful of porridge inches from his mouth and sadly saw the porridge spill back onto the plate.
"Oh, I’m sorry! Where are my manners?" Aron said and stood up. Then he politely lowered his upper body, although he couldn’t bend down that far because of the pain. "My name is Aron Simple, I’m a tailor and a personal friend of Victor Shieldman."
Gracela then glanced at Victor and asked, with a goofy expression on her face:
"Now you bring friends to other people’s mansions?"
Victor laughed a little nervously, because in a normal situation he would never have invited Aron to Selvarum Manor to avoid upsetting both sides.
