Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 290: Chapter Two Hundred And Eighty Nine

The courier remembered the exact words. He spoke them clearly into the rain.

"Tell him this," the courier shouted. "Duke Collin and I have done our part, the rest is up to you."

The eyes behind the small window widened slightly. The guard understood the message.

The guard reached his hand through the small window and snatched the brown envelope from the courier’s fingers.

"I will deliver it," the guard said.

He nodded his head once. The small window slammed shut with a sharp clack.

The courier turned around, climbed back onto his tired horse, and rode away into the dark storm, eager to find a warm tavern.

Inside the high stone walls of the estate, the gate guard turned around.

He held the dry brown envelope tightly in his hand. He began to walk quickly toward the main mansion. He walked across a large, dark courtyard. The rain hit his metal armor, making a loud, continuous drumming sound.

He reached the back doors of the house, opened the door and stepped inside.

He shook the cold water off his armor, trying to be quiet. He began to walk down the long, dim, carpeted hallways of the estate. The house was silent. It was late at night, and most of the servants were already asleep.

The guard walked toward the master’s private study.

He reached the end of the hallway. He stood in front of the door.

He raised his hand, curling his fingers into a fist. He was just about to knock, to announce the urgent delivery.

But suddenly, he stopped.

He heard voices coming from inside the room. Because the hallway was so quiet, the guard could hear the conversation happening inside perfectly clearly.

The guard lowered his fist. He stood still, listening carefully. He did not want to interrupt a private meeting, but he needed to deliver the letter.

"Your niece is awaiting trial, my lord," a smooth, calm voice said from inside the study. It sounded like the master’s personal aide.

Inside the room, a heavy silence followed the announcement.

Then, a much deeper, older, and very gruff voice spoke. The voice belonged to Lord Ryde’s brother, the master of the estate.

The master let out a long annoyed sigh. The sound was full of frustration.

"And my brother?" the gruff voice asked sharply. "What is Ryde doing about it? Has he sent his people to the palace?"

The guard in the hallway pressed his ear slightly closer to the wooden door.

"Nothing yet," the aide replied calmly. "Lord Ryde has made no move to secure Lady Isabel’s release. He has abandoned her to the royal court."

The master let out another harsh breath. He was angry that his brother’s daughter had caused such a mess.

"Foolish girl," the gruff voice muttered angrily. "She should have stayed out of the lower city. She should have stayed away from the General’s wife."

There was a short pause inside the room. The sound of a crystal glass clinking against a wooden table echoed softly.

"Any news on Damon?" the gruff voice asked. His tone grew much more serious and highly cautious.

The aide hesitated for a brief second before answering.

"The spies we planted in his military camp are dead, my lord," the aide reported. His voice was flat, delivering the grim news. "They were caught trying to send information out. The General found them."

The guard in the hallway stopped breathing. Dead spies? The situation was incredibly serious.

Inside the study, the master went silent.

The gruff voice did not speak. The silence dragged on for several long, tense seconds.

The master was thinking. He knew Damon was ruthless. He knew Damon was a brilliant commander. If Damon had caught the spies, he might be getting closer to discovering the true plot they were planning against the Kingdom.

The aide broke the heavy silence. His voice was urgent and serious.

"My Lord," the aide warned, speaking quickly to emphasize the danger. "We need to move the plan forward. We cannot wait any longer."

The aide stepped closer to his master’s desk.

"We need to be able to stop the King as soon as possible," the advisor urged firmly. "King Leonel is moving too fast. He has locked down the borders. He is demanding royal passes. It is just a matter of time before he completely reforms the entire kingdom."

The aide’s voice filled with a desperate fear.

"If the King successfully implements these new laws," the aide continued, "we will lose all our trade routes. We will lose our hidden wealth. And if the King discovers our alliance with the Mercians, we will be at the receiving end of the royal executioner’s axe. We must strike now."

The guard standing outside the door swallowed a heavy, dry lump in his throat.

He was hearing the details of high treason. They were planning to do something to the Kingdom. They were planning to stop the royal reforms with force.

The guard realized he had heard too much. If they knew he was listening, they would kill him instantly to protect their secret.

He needed to make his presence known immediately, as if he had just arrived at the door.

The guard quickly stepped back. He raised his hand and knocked loudly on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The urgent, passionate conversation inside the study stopped instantly. Complete, dead silence fell over the room.

"Who is it?" the gruff voice demanded loudly. The master sounded highly suspicious and slightly alarmed by the sudden interruption.

The guard cleared his throat. He forced his voice to sound calm and professional.

"It is the gate guard, my lord," the guard spoke clearly through the wood. "I apologize for the intrusion."

He held the brown envelope tightly in his hand.

"I have a letter from your brother, my lord," the guard announced.

"A courier just arrived in the storm," the guard continued. "He told me to deliver this message directly to you."

The guard took a slow breath and delivered the words.

"He said that he and Duke Collin have done their part," the guard said into the quiet hallway. "The rest is entirely up to you."

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