Chapter 255: Horace Meets the Duke

"Your Grace. A man has come to visit. He claimed you have to meet him." The old butter looked at Piast, who tensed up hearing his words. Giving a small nod to bring him, the butler walked off and returned within minutes with one of Horace’s operatives.

"Hello, Marquess." Unlike Horace, who maintained a polite attitude every time they spoke, the operative displayed contempt and arrogance. Piast realised it and smirked.

"How would your owner feel acting like that?" The words had a clear effect, with the man freezing up before smiling. Although he hated Horace, he recognised that the man at least kept a sense of dignity; everything he did was business, not a way to fuel his own ego. "What is it?"

The operative walked over and handed the note Horace had written. Reading it, Piast frowned and looked at the man in annoyance. "You wish for me to lie to the Duke?"

"When the time comes. Our boss had a plan, and you are integral to it. Besides, if you do well, you can see Lena again."

"My wife isn’t some item." Standing up, his eyes burned with anger as he forced himself into the man’s face.

"Do you accept?" Despite that, the operative didn’t budge. Piast calmed himself and nodded, burning the note. "Great. Write what we need." Piast nodded, went to his desk, and took out a small slip of paper. Carefully writing what was instructed, he signed it and handed it over. "I’ll be back soon. We need to ensure that you actually keep your word."

Piast sighed but nodded, watching the operative leave. The butler walked back in minutes later. "Did you find it?"

"Unfortunately not, Your Grace. The location you gave us led to a shop within the city."

"Did you investigate it at least?" Piast could hardly contain his annoyance, but the bulter brushed it off. He was one of the few people who was privy to the manor’s situation and understood.

"A family-run business tracing back 50 years. No connections to any major family within or outside the Commonwealth other than basic trade." Grounding his teeth, Piast looked at the small candle where he had burnt the note.

"Use every resource we have; I want her found." The butler bowed, but as getting an idea, Piast smiled. "Contact those fellows." The butler nodded, leaving Piast alone.

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A few days passed, and the operative outside the Dabrowski manor watched as Lech got into his carriage again and left the manor. Looking to the sun, he took out the stick of charcoal and scribbled down the rough time. Lech had a basic routine of leaving the manor at noonish and heading into the city. Whilst he didn’t know why it was always for hours at a time.

Closing the book, the operative had enough information and got on his horse, riding towards the city ahead of Lech. Whilst he would have loved to have more time to understand Lech’s routine better, they didn’t have the luxury of time. They knew it was a matter of when Piast found them but, more importantly, how long Horace’s cover would last.

Riding as fast as he could, the operative didn’t care for the people on the streets and threatened to trample over them if they didn’t move. Tying his horse up on a nearby post. Slamming his fist into the metal door, it opened for him, and once more, the operative was led to the backroom.

"You have a time?" The man at the desk asked casually. Taking two pouches from his waist, the operative threw the gold on the table.

"Two days time. He will leave the manor around noon. You know the area surrounding the manor." Getting a nod in reply made things easier. "The patrols don’t go past the small town nearby. There is a road leading from it to the city. Have your people attack there. It’s a little open, so you may have to improvise."

"It’s quite risky. I know the road you’re on about. It’s more than a little open." The man said mockingly, much to the operative anger. Moving forward, he leaned down the desk, getting in the man’s face.

"We are paying you handsomely to do this. I don’t care what you have to do, but we want him dead." Looking into the operative’s cold, almost inhumane eyes, the man gulped and nodded. It wasn’t the eyes of a normal person, only someone whose entire existence was about murder. He knew the people who hired him were dangerous, but seeing the pair of eyes before him increased the danger he felt tenfold.

"I understand. I can think of a few things."

"Good. Do not disappoint."

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"Is the boss here?"

"Downstairs." Getting a reply, the operative frowned.

"Why does he spend so much time with her? He could leave that to us."

"It’s not our job to question how he deals with the hostage. We simply do what we are told." The operative coldly looked at his colleague, giving him a stubble warning. He understood well enough and smiled, backing off.

"I’m just wondering, nothing more."

"You shouldn’t. If he puts this much time into something, he must have a plan."

"Maybe." The operative couldn’t be bothered and entered the other room, waiting outside the bookshelf. A few minutes passed, and Horace walked up.

"What is it?"

"We have given them a time—two days at noon." Horace took a deep breath and smiled. Walking over, he gently tapped his shoulder.

"We will be finished here soon if everything goes to plan."

"Sir," the operative quietly said. "If it fails, won’t security on the boy increases?"

"It won’t matter. I need a small window, is all."

The operative suppressed his sigh. "I understand. How shall we deal with the woman when this is over."

Squinting, Horace looked at the man. "I have not fully decided yet. If you have nothing else, I must leave." Horace didn’t wait for him to speak and walked out of the room. Looking at the staircase, the operative frowned and went downstairs.

The guard stood up to stop him, but after mentioning Horace, he stood down and let him in. Lena looked at the operative and backed up, not recognising him. When he approached her, he looked at her not as a person but as an animal.

"What have you done to the boss?" It had been eating at him. Horace had been spending too much time with Lena. It confused him. Despite working for Horace, he remained loyal to Esmond until Horace took over. It was his job to report if he felt Horace was going weak.

"Nothing." Lena shakily said, slowly backing up.

"Lies." The operative didn’t budge and moved closer to Lena. "I’ll ask once more. What does he do down here?"

"He." Lena paused. "He makes sure I’m okay." Frowning at the answer, the man turned around, locking Lena back in her room.

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Horace silently strolled through the garden. Two days had passed, and looking at the sun, he knew Lech would leave soon. Holding the rake in his hand, he waited patiently and looked out at the courtyard.

After thirty minutes, a luxurious carriage pulled up, surrounded by ten guards. Watching it leave, Horace threw the rack on the ground and boldly walked into the manor’s side entrance. Walking through the halls, the servants looked at him with strange eyes whilst a pair of guards came over, stopping him.

"You are not permitted to be inside, gardener." Their cold voices echoed, and many of the servants hid around corners, trying to hear what was happening. Horace just smiled politely.

"I need to see the Duke. Tell him Marquees Piast sent me." Hearing that, the two froze before reaching for their weapons and pointing them at him. They would have shown some fear if it had been a normal servant, but Horace stood unbothered. "If you keep me waiting, his son will be in trouble. I’m sure His grace would be displeased if he found out about this and you did nothing."

The eyes of one went wide as he ran off, leaving Horace alone with a sword at his neck. Looking out the window, he guessed how far Lech could have made it. Whilst he needed the Duke to act, it couldn’t be too quick. For the guard, it felt like hours passed with his blade pointed at Horaqce’s neck, but hearing two pairs of footsteps behind him, he sighed in relief.

Henryk nearly ran over in a panic. Seeing Horace, he frowned but said nothing, opening a nearby door and signalling him to come in. Henryk’s attitude changed in the room, and his face went red in rage.

"What has Piast done?" He fought the urge to slam Horace into a wall. Smiling, Horace pulled out the note Piast had written for him.

"I have just received word from His Grace. It seems your son will be attacked today." Henryk snatched the paper and quickly read through it, his red face going snow-white from dread.

"Mobilise the troops. Send for my son now."

"I would be careful, Your Grace." Horace cut in. "Whilst we don’t know how many people will attack your son, we can assume there will be a lot, seeing how close it is to the manor. Maybe you will need more than you think." Henryk frowned and looked at Horace in the corner of his eye.

"Listen to him." While he couldn’t trust Horace, there was truth to what he said. The Guard quickly bowed and ran off. "How did Piast know of this?"

’Got him.’Horace cheered in his mind but kept a neutral face. "I don’t know exactly, but I know he has tasked others to watch the King and his faction. You should understand why he does that?"

Henryk frowned but quickly clenched his fist, a deep rage in his eyes. "Impossible. Lock him up for now." Henryk turned and left the room, leaving the guard to take Horace away. He didn’t fight back, letting it happen.