Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 237 - Two Hundred And Thirty Six

The firelight danced on the bars of gold stacked inside the iron-bound chest. To Carlos, it looked like salvation. It looked like the answer to every prayer he had whispered in the dark since his banishment.

He gasped a little, the sound involuntary. The sheer amount of wealth sitting on the table was staggering.

Carlos straightened his coat. He tried to compose his face, to look like a man who was used to seeing such riches, rather than a man who was desperate for a single silver coin. He smiled, a wide, greedy expression that he directed at the trembling priest.

"That is a whole lot of gold," Carlos said, his voice smooth but eager. "The priest is highly generous. It is rare to see such devotion."

He stood up, reaching out, his hand hovering over the chest, itching to grab a bar.

"We should accept his goodwill, brother," Carlos urged, looking at Derek. "It would be rude to refuse."

Derek ignored him. He reached into the chest and picked up a single, heavy gold bar. He held it up to the light of the fire. It was heavy. It was solid.

He turned it over in his gloved hand. He looked at Adams.

"Such a generous gift," Derek said slowly. His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it. "I dare not accept."

He looked at the priest with cold, calculating eyes.

"What if this is money from the church?" Derek asked. "Or from the taxes of Eudora meant for the people? If I take this, and it belongs to the poor suffering from the plague, I would be a thief."

Adams went pale. He shook his head frantically.

"No, Your Grace!" Adams cried. "It is not stolen! I swear it!"

He had to claim the money was his. If he admitted it was church funds, he would be arrested for embezzlement by the church authorities. If he admitted it was from Liam, he would be exposed as a traitor.

"Rest assured," Adams said, his voice shaking. "This is from my private assets. My family inheritance. My savings. It belongs to me alone."

Derek smiled. It was the smile of a wolf that had just bitten down on the throat of its prey.

"Your private assets," Derek repeated.

He dropped the gold bar back into the chest. It landed with a loud, heavy clank.

"Guards!" Derek shouted.

The five Elite Shadows disguised as guards stepped forward instantly, their hands on their sword hilts.

"Confiscate Father Adams’ assets for bribery," Derek ordered. His voice boomed in the stone room. "He has just admitted to attempting to bribe a Grand Duke with a personal fortune. In a time of war and plague, this is a crime against the state."

Adams’s knees buckled. He grabbed the edge of the table to stop himself from falling.

"What?" Adams gasped.

"Place the priest on house arrest," Derek continued, pointing a finger at the stunned man. "Post guards at his door. Make sure he doesn’t set foot outside this room. If he tries to send a message, stop him."

Adams’s eyes widened in pure fear. He realized he had walked into a trap.

"Your Grace... Your Grace!" Adams pleaded, reaching out. "You cannot do this! I am a man of God!"

Two guards moved past Carlos. They grabbed the heavy lid of the chest.

Bang.

They slammed the chest shut. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Carlos flinched. He stared at the closed box. His face turned red with anger. The gold was right there. It was within reach. And Derek was taking it away.

"Derek!" Carlos hissed. "What are you doing? He gave it to us!"

Derek didn’t even look at his brother. He turned on his heel.

"Let’s go," Derek said.

He walked out of the room.

Carlos lingered for a second, looking at the chest, then at the guards who were now manning the door. He gritted his teeth. He had no choice. He followed Derek, fuming.

They walked out into the courtyard. Derek didn’t wait. He mounted his black mare. He adjusted his mask over his face.

"Stay here," Derek said to Carlos. "Make sure the guards do their job."

"Me?" Carlos asked, insulted. "Why should I be the one to do that?"

"You are a soldier in my army," Derek said coldly. "Do as you are told."

Derek kicked his horse. The mare galloped out of the cathedral gates, leaving Carlos standing in the dust, furious.

~ ••••• ~

The ride back to the camp was fast. Derek rode hard, his mind racing. Adams was contained, but he hadn’t cracked yet. Derek needed Nigel. Nigel was the only one who could connect Adams to the massacre.

He arrived at the outskirts of the camp.

Ian was waiting for him near the supply tents. Ian looked alert, scanning the horizon.

Immediately Ian saw Derek, he moved. He walked quickly to meet the horse.

Derek dismounted, tossing the reins to a stable boy. He walked toward Ian, pulling down his mask.

"Your Grace," Ian said, bowing his head.

Derek stopped. He looked at his trusted aide.

"Report," Derek said.

"Your Grace," Ian said, reaching into his tunic. "I have news on the search."

He pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"I had someone sketch Captain Nigel’s portrait," Ian explained. "We used descriptions from the old soldiers who served with him. We wanted something for easy identification. It has already been duplicated and sent to our search party.

He unfolded the paper. It was a charcoal drawing of a man with a strong jaw and weary eyes.

"And," Ian added, his voice dropping, "this one is the most accurate. We showed it to the locals."

Derek looked at the drawing.

"He was last seen in the western village," Ian said. "Before disappearing. A farmer said he saw a man matching this description buying bread two nights ago."

Derek nodded slowly. The western village. It was close to the border.

"Good," Derek said. "We have a trail."

He looked at the setting sun.

"I’ll investigate there with you tomorrow," Derek decided. "We will take a small team. No uniforms. We need to find him before Liam’s assassins do. And I want you to investigate Priest Adams’s assets. I want a detailed report."

Ian nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

Ian looked around to make sure no one was listening. He stepped closer.

"There is one more thing," Ian said.

"What is it?"

"The spies we sent to Mercia," Ian whispered. "They have arrived with information. They are almost at the Strathmore border. They sent a pigeon ahead."

Derek’s eyes narrowed.

"Mercia," he murmured.

"They say the Mercian army is moving faster than we thought," Ian reported.

"We need to meet them," Derek said. "As soon as they cross the border."

"They will be here in two days," Ian said.

Derek nodded. "Thank you, Ian."

He reached out and patted Ian on the shoulder. It was a heavy, grateful touch.

"You have done well," Derek said. "Get some rest. We ride at dawn."

Derek looked down again at the drawing of Captain Nigel. He studied the lines of the face. It was a generic face, the face of a soldier who had seen too much war.

But then, Derek saw it.

Whatever the artist had done, they had captured one specific detail perfectly.

It was the only key feature Derek could get from the drawing.

There, right above the man’s left eye, sitting on the brow bone, was a distinct, dark mole.

It was small, but it was unique.

Derek traced it with his thumb.

"A mole on the brow," Derek whispered.

He memorized it.

He folded the paper and put it in his pocket, next to the locket.