Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 306: Chapter Three Hundred And Five

Evening came very fast to the dusty military camp. The bright, hot sun finally began to set in the distance. The sky changed from a bright blue to a deep, dark shade of orange and purple.

Inside the command tent, Damon was pacing back and forth across the floor.

He was looking out the small opening of the canvas flap. He checked the darkening sky for the umpteen time. He was really impatient. He wanted the sun to go down so he could finally leave the camp and go back to home. He wanted to see Camilla.

He stopped pacing and let out a long breath. He looked down at the desk.

Just then, the canvas flap of the tent was pushed aside.

Kade walked into the command tent. He stopped a few feet away from the desk and bowed his head deeply to his commander.

"Your horse is ready, my lord," Kade announced clearly. His voice echoed softly in the quiet space.

Damon nodded his head once. "Good."

Damon turned his body around. He walked over to the wooden stand standing in the corner of the tent. His coat was resting on the wood.

Damon reached out and took his coat from the stand. Before he put it on, he carefully slid his hand deep inside the inner pocket of the fabric.

His fingers brushed against a small, round object wrapped in soft velvet cloth.

Damon felt the solid weight of the gold locket resting safely in his pocket. A small brief look of relief passed over his face. He needed to be sure his special gift was still there.

Damon pulled his hand out of the pocket. He swung the coat over his shoulders and adjusted the collar.

He walked out of the command tent. The cool evening wind hit his face. He walked across the dusty camp toward where a stable boy was holding the leather reins of his black horse.

Damon grabbed the reins, stepped up and mounted his horse smoothly. He sat tall in the saddle, looking down at Kade.

"Kade," Damon spoke. His voice was strict and commanding.

"Yes, General?" Kade replied, standing at attention.

"Make sure you get enough rest tonight," Damon reminded him firmly. He pointed a finger at the ground. "Be very early to the mansion tomorrow morning. Do not be late."

"I will be there before the sun rises, my lord," Kade promised, bowing his head.

Damon nodded. He clicked his tongue sharply. Tch.

He pulled the leather reins, and the horse turned around. The horse began to trot quickly out of the military camp, carrying the General onto the long dirt road.

Damon rode off into the darkening evening.

The ride back to the capital city took exactly one hour. The sky turned pitch black, filled with bright, twinkling stars.

As Damon rode closer to his home, his heart began to beat a little bit faster. He felt incredibly nervous. He had a bad feeling in his chest. He worried that she might have figured out his lie.

The horse finally arrived at the high stone walls of the Benson mansion. The horse trotted through the open iron gates and stepped onto the smooth stone pavement of the large courtyard.

As usual, Mr. Murry was already waiting near the front steps of the mansion. The older housekeeper held a warm yellow oil lamp in his hand, lighting up the courtyard.

Damon pulled the reins, bringing the horse to a stop.

He swung his leg over the saddle and jumped down onto the stone pavement. His leather boots made a loud thud. A stable boy quickly ran forward and took the horse away to the warm stables.

Damon did not wait. He walked with fast, long strides toward the old housekeeper.

The very first thing he asked was the only thing that mattered to his mind.

"Where is my wife?" Damon asked. His voice was urgent and slightly breathless.

Murry smiled a very polite, welcoming smile. He bowed his gray head respectfully.

"She is in the room, my Lord," Murry replied smoothly.

Damon stopped walking. He stood on the bottom stone step. He looked at Murry’s calm face.

Damon bent his tall, broad body down low. He leaned his head very close to Murry and lowered his voice into a quiet anxious whisper.

"Do you think she is angry with me, Uncle Murry?" Damon whispered softly. His dark brown eyes searched the housekeeper’s wrinkled face for any clues.

Murry blinked in surprise. He looked at the General acting like a worried, nervous boy.

Murry let out a small, gentle sigh. He shook his head slowly from side to side.

"I don’t know, my lord," Murry replied honestly, keeping his voice quiet to match Damon’s tone. "She seemed perfectly normal today. She stayed in the house and read her books. She did not look upset at all."

Damon let out a slow, careful breath. That was slightly good news. At least this will make his apology easier.

Murry stood up straight and changed the subject back to his household duties.

"By the way, my lord," Murry asked politely. "Would you like your dinner served in the dining room tonight, or in the bedroom?"

Damon did not even need to think about the answer.

"The bedroom," Damon replied immediately.

Murry nodded his head. "Very well, my lord. I will have the maids bring the food up shortly."

Damon turned his body away from the housekeeper. He walked up the wide stone stairs and entered the grand foyer of the mansion.

He walked toward the grand staircase. He climbed the stairs with slow steps. He felt a tight knot of nervousness growing in his stomach. He reached the second floor and walked down the long, carpeted hallway.

He finally reached the door of the master bedroom.

Damon stopped walking. He stood still outside the closed door.

He listened carefully.

Through the thick wood, he heard a very soft, sweet sound.

It was Camilla. She was humming.

Damon felt the tight knot in his stomach loosen just a tiny bit. He raised his right hand, curled his fingers into a fist and knocked softly on the wood.

Knock. Knock.

He did not wait for her to answer. He turned the brass handle and pushed the door open.

Damon stepped into the master bedroom. The room was bathed in the warm, yellow light of the oil lamps.

Camilla was sitting on the soft cushion of her vanity stool. She was facing the large mirror, wearing her soft, flowing white silk nightgown. The thin fabric draped elegantly over her small shoulders.

She held a brush in her right hand and was slowly, rhythmically brushing her thick curly hair. She looked relaxed, humming her sweet tune as she pulled the brush through her long curls.

Damon stood near the doorway. He looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"I am home, my lady," Damon said softly. His voice was soft and polite.

Camilla stopped humming. She did not jump in surprise. She kept her eyes focused on the mirror. She met his gaze in the reflection.

"Welcome, my lord," Camilla replied smoothly. Her voice was calm. She did not sound angry, but she did not sound overly happy either. She simply sounded normal.

Damon closed the door behind him.

He walked slowly into the center of the bedroom. He reached up and unbuttoned his coat. He pulled the thick wool fabric off his shoulders.

He walked over to the bed and dropped his coat onto the soft mattress. He made sure the coat landed gently so the bundle in his inner pocket would not be damaged.

He walked quietly towards the vanity table.

He stopped right behind Camilla, looking at how her hair spread over her back.

He slowly reached his hand out.

"May I?" Damon asked, seeking her permission. He wanted to brush her hair for her.

Camilla paused. She held the wooden brush in the air.

She looked up at his face in the mirror. She saw his serious, dark brown eyes. He looked earnest.

Camilla slowly lowered her arm. She turned the handle toward him and gave him the brush.

Damon gently took the brush from her small fingers.

He looked down at the top of her head. He placed the bristles of the brush near the roots and began to brush. He dragged the wooden tool downward.

But Camilla’s hair was very thick and very curly. The stiff bristles of the brush instantly caught in a large, messy tangle of curls near the middle of her back. The brush stopped moving.

Damon frowned slightly. He did not know how to handle tangles. He thought he just needed to apply a little bit more strength to push the brush through the knot.

He tightened his grip on the handle. He applied a little bit of force and pulled the brush downward aggressively.

The heavy tug instantly pulled hard on Camilla’s scalp.

"Ouch!" Camilla exclaimed loudly. She jerked her head backward. "It hurts!"

She reached her hands up to hold the back of her head, surprised by the sudden, painful pull.

Damon dropped his hand immediately. The brush hung loosely in his fingers. His eyes widened in panic.

"I’m sorry," Damon apologized rapidly. His voice shook slightly with fear. He took a quick half-step backward. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. This is my first time."

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