Under the vampire Lord's protection-Chapter 160: The vermeil sword

Ignoring everyone in his path, Silas stormed through the front doors and went straight towards the painting that blocked the entrance of the legacy room.

Once inside, he dashed past every portrait and chest on the way, only stopping at the very end where a specific, more isolated chest sat, gathering no dust for the spell prevented it as it was meant to.

It wasn’t a key that allowed him to unlock the silver adorned crate but his own blood yet again.

Inside, nestled among cushy velvet sheets, rested an imposing sword, also vermeil from the point all the way up to its pommel.

The vampire picked it up with much care, attention and patience he lacked in all of his dealings throughout the previous hours.

Holding it up before himself, his diamonds took the initiative to study every inch of it, especially the blade as it would soon serve its purpose. One it hadn’t enacted in over a century thus the tending to it desperately required.

It had to be perfect, to perform better than it ever had before. Anything below that would be less than ideal since his opponent was a wolfman and an Alpha at that.

No matter how hard he tried, Silas failed to mute Cynric’s last utterances concerning his intentions with Arabella.

The idea that her blood was the sole thing in her that interested him birthed such revultion at his core; thoughts he had to push aside in order to focus on his goal.

The oddest thing was, the image of her smiling, the happy little runs she did when excited about something, her soft giggles as well as that signature ridiculous expression Arabella always had on whenever she believed she was being mischievous... Those memories of her refused to budge, persistent on remaining at the center front of his mind.

There was more to her than the taste of her blood; that much was a given.

A set of feet tapped the floor very hesitantly through the hallways leading to the legacy room. It was as though they took one step forward and then one step back. The sound of rustling fabric came along too and upon straining his sense of scent, Silas did not struggle to recognize them.

Ada halted by the open portrait, her heart hammering her chest with no sign of calming down.

"What is it you need?" the ice in his voice was sharper than usual.

A little gasp escaped her before she slowly revealed herself, "Master... I," she whispered before stopping upon remembering to curtsey, "Has there been any sign of Arabella’s whereabouts since...," Ada trailed off, eyes drifting away.

"There has," he said dryly while twirling his sword in one hand.

The maid instinctively leapt back, hands clasped together. She stood still, staring back at him with expecting eyes, "Will you be bringing her back?" there was a lot of stuttering and voice cracking throughout her sentence.

At those words, Silas froze, finally taking his diamonds off the sword and gradually turning to glare at Ada, "And what sort of question is this?" as windless as his tone was, it still managed to cut through her skin and crawl under.

"My apologies, Master. I meant no disrespect! It’s only that...," a bit frantic, the maid failed to provide the justification the way it aligned in her mind.

"Return to your chores. That would be for the better,"

And with that, he left her by the portrait that shut right after his exit. For a good while, Ada did not move from her place, her sniveling only growing louder the further away from her he walked.

The fact that the two women spent most of their days in each other’s company aside, Silas could not fathom the reason for such concern.

After all, she was simply tasked with keeping an eye on Arabella. How close could they really have gotten to each other?

Making sure no harm befell her inside the manor was her job and right that moment Arabella was not in the manor so, why the crying? Why the tears? Why worry herself when it happened outside of her shift?

If trouble is what scared her, she had nothing to fear as the fault wasn’t hers.

It was his own burden to carry. Silas had been the one to drag her out of the safety that the manor provided.

"Master!" Mr Carlton rushed before Silas.

"What is it? Have we received any notice about the situation?"

"No, but-"

The butler hadn’t gotten to finish his sentence that Silas cut him off while speeding past the man, "Then I am sure you can handle whatever it is. I have no time to waste on-"

However, he too was not allowed to complete his sayings. Mr Carlton hastened, practically running after his Master, "I am afraid the matter at hand is well above my paygrade to handle by myself, Master. It is Lord Reubon Sterling, Master,"

Mr Carlton finally took a breath and slowed down after Silas had stopped in his tracks.

"Speak! What about Lord Sterling then?" Silas never turned to face him.

"He too was made aware of the unfortunate accident that took place last night and as it turned out, the Lord was still in Umbraria when it all went down. He arrived around three hours ago and has been demanding to speak with you, Master," the butler inhaled and exhaled sharply in between his words.

"What does he want?" Silas asked.

"I do not know that since he refused to speak with anyone else that isn’t you," Mr Carlton shook his head slowly.

It was strange to hear that Sterling had been waiting for hours from Carlton and not from Ada during their short encounter.

"Right then, I will take care of it. Return to your work,"

"Thank you, Master,"

Mr Carlton placed a hand on his heart, bowed slightly before turning around and walking away.

But Silas did not move and instead wrapped a hand around the handle of his sword, squeezing it until his blood entirely fled his knuckles, rendering them white as linen sheets in the process.

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