Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts-Chapter 30 - Thirty

Doctor Aris gently placed the last white bandage around Damon’s leg. He tied a small, neat knot to keep the cloth in place. He carefully lowered the General’s leg back onto the soft silk sheets of the large wooden bed.

The doctor let out a long breath. He turned to his worn leather medical bag. He picked up his glass bottles, his wooden tools, and his extra cloth, packing them neatly inside. He closed the heavy metal clasp with a sharp click.

"I am finished for today, My Lord," Doctor Aris said respectfully. He picked up his bag and bowed his head. "Your leg is doing very well. Please get plenty of rest. I will leave now."

Damon sat against the headboard. He gave the old doctor a single, brief nod. He did not say a word. He just waited.

Doctor Aris walked across the large bedroom. He opened the doors, stepped out into the stone hallway, and pulled the doors shut behind him. The room fell into complete silence.

Less than ten seconds later, the doors opened again. This time, they opened very quietly.

Kade, Damon’s loyal aide and personal guard, slipped inside the bedroom. He quickly closed the doors and locked them from the inside. He turned around and faced the bed. He stood very straight, his hands resting naturally by his sides.

The atmosphere inside the room changed instantly. Damon dropped his tired, weak expression. His dark eyes became sharp, cold, and highly focused.

"Report," Damon commanded. His deep voice was crisp and clear.

Kade took two steps forward. His plain, ordinary face looked very serious.

"The one responsible for the accident isn’t Lady Camilla," Kade stated clearly. He looked at his General, expecting Damon to be surprised by this news.

But Damon did not look surprised at all. He let out a short, heavy breath.

"I know," Damon replied impatiently. He waved his large hand in the air. "Who is it?"

Kade paused. He looked down at the stone floor for a second. He felt a deep sense of failure. "We haven’t found anything about it yet, My Lord. I checked the stables. I questioned the guards on duty. No one saw anything strange. Whoever did this was very quiet and knew the patrol schedules perfectly."

Damon nodded his head slowly. His mind worked quickly. He thought about the leather saddle. It had torn right in the middle of a fast gallop. But leather does not just tear on its own. It had to be cut deeply with a very sharp blade, leaving just enough material so it would break later. It required strength, precision, and time.

"Camilla did not do it," Damon thought to himself. "She does not have the ability to cut thick war leather. She does not know the guard schedules. Furthermore, I have heard her true thoughts. She only plans to annoy me with salty porridge or attempting to kiss me to make me uncomfortable. She is too busy planning her escape from my side to organize a complex assassination."

Damon looked back at Kade. He knew the culprit was someone very close to him.

Kade looked at the thick white bandages on the bed. "My Lord," Kade asked, his voice filled with curiosity. "How long will you keep pretending like you are seriously hurt? The doctor told me outside that you are healing incredibly fast. He said you would be able to walk in at least two days."

Damon looked at his wrapped leg. He slowly reached down with his large hands. He grabbed the thick wool blankets and threw them off his body.

He slid his legs over the side of the tall wooden bed. His bare feet touched the cold stone floor.

Kade took a step forward, ready to catch him.

"General, careful!"

Damon raised a hand to stop him. He pushed his weight down onto his right leg. Then, very carefully, he put a little bit of weight onto his injured left leg. A sharp pain shot through his muscles, but Damon’s face remained completely blank. He was a man who had endured the worst pain in the world. A healing bone was nothing to him.

Damon stood up from the bed. He stood tall and broad. He began to walk toward the large glass window on the other side of the room. He favored his left side, limping just a little bit, but his steps were steady and strong.

"I am not pretending because I am weak," Damon replied, keeping his eyes on the window. "I am pretending because it is a strategy."

He reached the tall window. The bright morning sunlight poured over his broad shoulders and shirt. He looked out over the large, paved courtyard below.

Down in the courtyard, Damon saw a very strange sight.

He saw his wife, Lady Camilla. She was standing all alone in the middle of the empty stone yard. She was wearing her simple green dress. And she was completely losing her mind.

Damon watched as she let out a silent squeal, throwing her hands up in the air. She spun around in a circle. Her green skirts flew out like a bell. She hopped from one foot to the other. She shimmied her shoulders and danced a strange, joyful victory dance.

Damon frowned slightly. He crossed his arms over his double-door chest.

"Why is she dancing?" Damon thought to himself. He could not hear her thoughts from this far away, but he could see her actions. "Why is she dancing like she just won a massive war. She is a very, very strange woman."

He watched her skip happily up the marble stairs and disappear into the mansion.

Damon turned his back to the window. He looked at Kade. His face was deadly serious.

"I have to help them with their act," Damon explained. His voice was cold and calculating.

He was building a trap.

"Whoever did this," Damon continued, walking slowly back toward the bed, "carefully planned this sabotage. They wanted me dead, or at least permanently crippled and conveniently framed Camilla. If they know I am already strong enough to walk, they will hide. They will cover their tracks. But if they think I am weak, bedridden, and helpless..."

Kade’s eyes widened as he understood the General’s plan. "They will get bold. They will try to strike again."

"Exactly," Damon nodded. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. "The best thing I could give them right now is a good performance. I will be the injured, angry victim. I will stay in this room."

Damon looked Kade straight in the eye. His orders were absolute.

"Check every staff member in this house," Damon commanded firmly. "From the head butler all the way down to the lowest scullery maid in the kitchen. Watch where they go. Watch who they speak to. Check their personal letters. Our rat is among them. The enemy is sleeping under my roof."

Kade stood at strict attention. "Yes, General. I will organize a silent watch immediately."

Kade paused for a moment. He thought about the angry young woman who had just barged into the room, and the quiet wife who had smoothly dodged her attack.

"What about Lady Camilla?" Kade asked carefully. "Should I put guards on her as well? The head maid is very convinced she is the one to blame." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Damon turned his head. He looked back toward the empty window. He thought about Camilla. He thought about his mind-reading. He thought about her strange behaviors.

"No," Damon replied. His voice was calm. "Do not waste men on her."

Damon remembered how close Camilla had been to him just an hour ago. She had trapped him in his wheelchair. She had been inches from his face.

"If she wanted to kill me," Damon stated simply, "she would have done it since. She had a bowl of hot food in her hands this morning. She could have easily poisoned it with real venom instead of just half a jar of salt. She is not the assassin."

But then, Damon remembered her dancing in the courtyard. He remembered her internal threats. She was not the assassin, but she was definitely dangerous in her own very weird way.

Damon turned his eyes back to Kade.

"However," Damon added, his voice dropping slightly. "Keep an eye on her too. Not as a murder suspect. But because she is highly unpredictable. I do not know what she is planning next, but she is definitely planning something."

"Understood, My Lord," Kade replied. He bowed respectfully from the waist. He turned around, unlocked the doors, and left the room to begin his secret hunt for the traitor.