Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 279 - Two Hundred And Seventy Eight
The late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long, stretching shadows across the polished floor of Derek’s private study. The room was a sanctuary of silence, insulated from the rest of the estate by thick stone walls and heavy tapestries.
Derek sat behind his massive oak desk, a fortress of wood covered in maps and reports. He was not wearing his military coat. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and dark trousers, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the bandages on his forearms—remnants of the "war" he had just won. But his mind was still on the battlefield. Not the physical one in Strathmore, but the shadow war being fought right here in the capital.
He was waiting.
He picked up a quill, twirling it between his fingers. The tip scratched rhythmically against the wood of the desk.
He was waiting for word from Ian. The Elite Shadow had stayed behind in Strathmore, tasked with the most dangerous mission of all: hunting down the ghost known as Captain Nigel. If they had Nigel, they had the testimony. If they had the testimony, they had Prince Liam’s neck in a noose.
Derek stared at the map of the kingdom on the wall, his eyes tracing the road from Strathmore to Eudora. "He should be close," Derek thought. "If he hasn’t been intercepted."
Knock. Knock.
The sound was soft, almost imperceptible. It wasn’t the heavy knock of a servant or the polite rap of a guest. It was the special knock of the Elite Shadows. Two quick taps, a pause, then one heavy thud.
"Enter," Derek commanded, his voice low but carrying across the room.
The heavy door opened soundlessly on its well-oiled hinges. One of his close guards, a man named Robert, slipped inside. He closed the door quickly, engaging the lock with a soft click.
He walked to the desk and bowed deeply, his movements fluid and precise.
"Your Grace," the guard whispered.
"Report," Derek said, setting down the quill. He leaned forward, his whole body tense with anticipation.
The guard reached into his tunic. He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. It looked like a scrap of trash, unassuming and unimportant. It was crinkled and stained with travel dust.
"A secret message from Shadow Ian," the guard said, handing it over with both hands. "It arrived by falcon just moments ago. The bird flew straight to the western tower."
Derek took the paper. He unfolded it carefully.
It was blank.
To an ordinary eye, it was just an empty scrap of waste paper. But Derek smiled, a small, tight expression of approval. It was a precaution. If the bird had been intercepted, if the messenger had been caught and tortured, the enemy would see nothing but a blank page.
Derek stood up. He walked to the side table where a lantern burned brightly. He carefully held the paper over the heat of the flame, close enough to warm the fibers but not close enough to burn them.
He waited. The seconds ticked by.
Slowly, like magic, brown letters began to appear on the white surface. The heat reacted with the invisible ink—a mixture of lemon juice and a chemical compound known only to the Thompson spies.
The words formed, jagged and hurried, written in a hand that was shaking with adrenaline.
"Target secured. Captain Nigel has confessed. He has given a full account of the orders, the gold, and the ambush. I am bringing him back to Eudora. We ride hard."
Derek let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The air whooshed out of his lungs. He read the words again, savoring them.
"Captain Nigel has confessed," Derek whispered to the flame.
He pulled the paper away before it could scorch. As the paper cooled, the words began to fade, returning to secrecy.
Derek walked back to his desk. He sat down, a feeling of immense satisfaction settling in his chest. The knot of tension that had been there for weeks began to loosen.
"Everything is going as planned," he murmured. "Nigel is the key. Once the King hears a Captain of the Guard testify that the Crown Prince ordered the death of Theodore Thompson... Liam will be finished. No amount of royal blood will save him from a charge of high treason."
He looked at the guard, who was still standing at attention, waiting for orders.
"You have done well," Derek said. "Tell the stable master to prepare fresh horses for Ian’s arrival. We must be ready to move him to a safe house immediately upon his return. And double the guard at the gates. No one enters without my permission."
"Yes, Your Grace," the guard said.
But the guard didn’t leave. He hesitated. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable.
Derek frowned. "Is there something else?"
The guard reached behind his back. He pulled out a box.
It was not a military dispatch box. It was not a scroll case. It was a decorative box, covered in dark blue velvet and tied with a silver ribbon. It looked like a gift one would send to a lover.
"What is that?" Derek asked, eyeing the object with suspicion.
"It arrived at the main gate, Your Grace," the guard replied, his voice uneasy. "It was delivered by a royal page. He said it was urgent. He insisted it be given only to you."
Derek stared at the box. Blue and silver. The colors of the Royal House.
"Who sent it?" Derek asked, though he already felt a cold prickle of dread crawling up his spine.
"It was sent by Prince Liam," the guard said, his voice low.
Derek’s hand clenched into a fist on the desk. His knuckles turned white.
Liam.
"He sent a message with it," the guard continued nervously, looking at the floor. "He said... he said, ’If you see this, you will know. Send me what I want, and in the future, I won’t trouble you anymore.’"
