Free Web NovelChapter 220: Chapter Two Hundred And Nineteen
The moment Camilla disappeared down the hallway, the soft, gentle atmosphere in the bedroom vanished.
Damon turned his head to look at Kade. The warm smile instantly dropped from his face. His dark brown eyes became cold, strict, and full of authority once again.
Kade swallowed hard. He kept his eyes on the floor, waiting for his orders.
Damon spoke. His voice was serious, leaving no room for questions or arguments.
"I will be away from the military camp for a few more days," Damon commanded clearly. "I need to ensure my shoulder is fully rested. I want you to take complete care of the daily operations while I am away. Make sure the soldiers continue their drills. Do not let their discipline slip."
"Yes, General," Kade replied quickly, nodding his head.
"Furthermore," Damon continued, leaning slightly forward, his voice dropping to a lower, more dangerous volume. "Keep investigating the two tasks I assigned to you. I want to know everything about the Ryde family’s past connection to the Eastern Valley land. And... I want answers about that man named Winston. Report directly to me the moment you find any new information."
Kade brought his right fist up to his chest, saluting his commander.
"It will be done, My Lord," Kade stated firmly. "I will handle the camp and the investigations."
"Good," Damon said, dismissing him. "You may leave."
Kade bowed one last time, turned around, and marched quickly out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
Damon was finally alone in the quiet room.
He reached over to the silver tray. He picked up the ceramic bowl of warm porridge and the small spoon. He dipped the spoon into the oats and took a large bite.
The sweet taste of honey and warm grain filled his mouth. He chewed slowly. A wide smile returned to his lips. He looked at the empty doorway where Camilla had just stood. He was determined to use these next few days at home to get closer to her, no matter what it took.
Meanwhile, many miles away from the Benson estate, a very different kind of meeting was taking place.
Inside the walls of a private manor, General Howe sat behind a dark wooden desk.
The air in his study was thick, warm, and smelled strongly of expensive tobacco smoke. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn tightly across the windows, blocking out the bright morning sun and leaving the room entirely in dark shadows.
General Howe looked terrible. His face was pale, his eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and his hands were shaking slightly. He had just returned from a long, exhausting journey outside the borders of Daril.
Standing nervously on the other side of the dark desk was Howe’s trusted aide.
The aide looked at his master’s stressed face. He swallowed nervously before speaking.
"How was your meeting with the King, General?" the aide asked in a careful, quiet whisper.
Howe slammed his fist down hard against the desk.
Bang!
The sound echoed sharply in the quiet, dark room. The aide jumped backward in fear.
"He is really angry," Howe spat out, his voice shaking with boiling frustration. "He scolded me like I was a foolish child! He was furious that we lost control of the Eastern Valley land."
Howe gritted his teeth, remembering the cold, terrifying eyes of the enemy King.
"Because that bastard Benson took the land back," Howe continued, his voice dripping with venom, "the King’s source of that black powder been blocked. I have been given a strict, final order. I must find a way to get that valley back under our control, or I must find another source. If I fail again... my life is forfeit."
The aide nodded quickly, his face pale. He understood the severe danger they were in. If the enemy King decided they were useless, they would both be quietly assassinated in the night. frёeωebɳovel.com
Howe leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and focus on his schemes. He looked up at his aide with sharp, calculating eyes.
"Have you completed the task I gave you?" Howe demanded. "Have you planted the spy in General Benson’s military camp?"
The aide nodded rapidly.
"Yes, General," the aide confirmed quickly. "They have successfully infiltrated the new recruits. One is wearing the Daril uniform and sleeping in their barracks. He is currently watching Damon’s daily movements and taking notes on their patrol schedules."
"And the other one?" Howe asked.
"She is also on the lookout." The aide reported.
"Any news?" Howe asked eagerly. "Have they found a weakness? Do they know when Damon will leave the capital again?"
The aide shook his head slowly, looking deeply disappointed.
"Nothing for now, General," the aide reported sadly. "General Benson is extremely careful. He does not discuss his plans openly. And our spy just sent word this morning that Damon did not even show up to the camp today. We do not know what he is planning behind closed doors."
Howe cursed loudly under his breath. He rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers. He needed a way to eliminate Damon, or at least distract him long enough to secure the land.
Suddenly, Howe remembered something. He remembered a small, fast fighter wearing a dark mask.The fighter who moved like a shadow and hit like a falling rock.
Howe lowered his hands from his face. A new, desperate plan began to form in his mind.
"What about that fighter?" Howe asked, his voice suddenly sharp and fully alert. "The masked one from that fight? The one who killed our champion? You still haven’t found him?"
If Howe could find that highly skilled fighter, he could pay him a massive sum of gold. He could hire the fighter to assassinate Damon Benson. It was the perfect plan. The fighter had the speed and the lethal skill required to match the Tyrant General.
The aide sighed heavily and shook his head again. He looked truly defeated.
"No, General," the aide replied, his voice full of frustration. "I have sent men to every tavern, every dark alley, and every gambling den in the lower city and the capital. We have offered heavy bribes for information. But no one knows anything. It is as if he just vanished completely into thin air after that night. He left no trace."
Howe leaned back in his chair. The wood creaked loudly under his weight.
He stared at the ceiling of his office. His mind was racing, trying to find a solution to his impossible problem. He could not fight Damon directly, his spy was useless, and the greatest fighter in the city had disappeared.
Howe slowly narrowed his eyes. The desperation in his chest turned into cold, dark resolve.
"Looks like I will need some external help," Howe spoke quietly to the dark room.
