Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 313 - Three Hundred And Twelve

Derek stood in the dim light of the small, hidden room. He looked down at the thick bundle of papers on the wooden table. The letters, the records, the undeniable proof of Prince Liam’s terrible crimes. It was all there. It was the key to saving Eudora and avenging his brother’s murder.

He slowly reached out. His large hand closed around the bundle. He picked it up. It felt heavy, not just with weight, but with the lives of the soldiers who had died at Strathmore. He tucked the papers safely into the deep inside pocket of his thick, dark cloak.

He looked at Captain Nigel. The scarred soldier was still sitting in his chair, his shoulders slumped, his face wet with tears of shame and relief. Nigel had finally told the truth. He had finally dropped his heavy burden.

Derek’s face was serious and calm. He had heard enough.

"Very well then," Derek spoke. His voice was steady, offering a quiet promise of justice. Thank you for your cooperation." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Captain Nigel stood up immediately. He wiped his face with his dirty sleeve. He bowed deeply, bending low at the waist to show his absolute respect to the Grand Duke.

Derek turned around. He walked to the heavy wooden door and pulled it open. He stepped out into the dark, narrow hallway. He pushed the door closed behind him. It shut with a firm, solid click.

Ian was standing right there in the hallway. The shadow guard was completely alert. His posture was straight, his eyes sharp, and his hands rested lightly on the daggers at his belt.

He was ready for any danger.

Derek turned to face Ian. The Grand Duke’s eyes were cold and focused. The time for planning was over. The time for action was here.

"Tomorrow at court," Derek said, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear. "We will present the evidence to His Majesty, the King. We will expose Liam in front of everyone."

Ian nodded slowly. He understood the massive danger of this plan.

Derek looked back at the closed wooden door for a second, thinking about the broken captain inside. Then he looked back at Ian.

"Guard him closely," Derek ordered, pointing at the door. "Do not let anyone in. Do not let him out. He is our only living witness. If Liam’s people find him tonight, we lose everything."

Derek stepped closer to Ian. His expression was completely strict.

"No mistakes allowed," Derek said.

Ian bowed his head respectfully. He removed his hands from his daggers and placed his right fist over his heart.

"Yes, Your Grace," Ian replied, his voice filled with absolute loyalty. "I will protect him with my life."

Derek gave a single nod. He pulled his hood up over his head to hide his face once more. He turned and walked down the long, dark hallway, leaving the building to prepare for the biggest battle of his life.

Far across the capital city, the day was already coming to an end. The bright sun had dipped low in the sky, painting the clouds in shades of deep orange and soft purple.

At the Grand Temple of Eudora, the atmosphere was quiet, peaceful, and holy. The air smelled strongly of burning beeswax candles and sweet sandalwood incense.

Beatrice and Marissa had spent the entire day inside the massive stone walls of the temple. They had knelt on hard wooden benches. They had listened to the chanting of the priests. They had prayed silently for hours.

Now, the main memorial service was over.

Beatrice stood near the grand altar. She looked very tired. Her old bones ached from kneeling, and her legs felt weak. But when she looked at her face, the deep lines of stress and anger from the previous night seemed to have softened. The heavy weight on her chest felt lighter.

An old, respected priest in long white robes stood in front of her. He held a string of prayer beads in his hands.

"After the ceremonial service," Beatrice spoke, her voice quiet and raspy. She leaned heavily on her thick wooden cane. "My heart finally feels at peace. I feel that the innocent soul of the unborn child has found its way to the light."

She looked at the priest with genuine gratitude. Even though she was a proud, wealthy woman, she knew she was small in the eyes of the gods.

She bowed her head slightly to the holy man.

"My gratitude, Priest," Beatrice said sincerely. "Thank you for your guidance today."

The priest smiled warmly. His eyes were kind and wrinkled with age. He bowed his head back to her.

"You honor me too much, Your Grace," the priest replied softly. "It is my duty to serve the gods and to comfort the grieving hearts of the people. The gods have heard your prayers."

The priest noticed how tired Beatrice looked. Her hands were shaking slightly on her cane.

"Please, rest in the waiting room," the priest suggested, pointing toward a hallway on the left side of the altar. "It is warm and quiet there. Your daughter-in-law will soon be out to meet you after her own prayers."

Beatrice looked back toward the rows of benches. Marissa was still kneeling there, her head bowed in deep, silent prayer. Marissa was praying for Derek’s safety, knowing the dangerous path he walked. Beatrice did not want to disturb her.

"Thank you," Beatrice replied, turning back to the priest. "I will wait for her."

The priest gestured with his hand. "This way, please."

He walked slowly, leading the old matriarch down a quiet stone corridor. The sounds of the main temple faded away. They stopped in front of a solid door. The priest opened it.

Inside was a small, comfortable room designed for noble guests. A warm fire was crackling happily in a small stone fireplace. There were two plush, velvet chairs. On a small wooden table between the chairs, a silver tray had already been prepared.

"A tray of tea has been prepared for you," the priest said, stepping aside so Beatrice could enter.

Beatrice walked into the room. The heat from the fire felt wonderful on her cold, old skin. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Please rest here briefly," the priest said kindly, bowing one last time. "I will take my leave now to prepare for the evening chants."

"Thank you," Beatrice said again, walking toward the comfortable chairs.