Pulling out his pocket watch, Lucas checked the time. It was 4:15 pm, and he felt a sense of urgency gnawing at him. Something was amiss, and he needed answers. Why had the head council shown up in person? What was their interest in the slave girl? These questions echoed in his mind as he prepared to leave the mansion, a place he rarely ventured far from.
As his carriage halted in front of a quaint thatched house, Lucas instructed his coachman, Phillip, to wait. The familiar pattern of knocks on the door went unanswered, and he pushed it open, greeted by a shocking sight. The remains of his friend, Celia, lay in disintegrated disarray, a grim message scrawled in blood: 'C H A R L O T T E.'
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The gravity of the situation hit him hard. Celia's death, the slaughtered slaves—all signs pointed to a sinister plot unfolding. Ordering Phillip to return to the safety of the mansion, Lucas turned to face Louis, who arrived in a panicked state.
"Master Lucas, the slaves... they're all…" Louis struggled to articulate the horror.
Lucas cut through the chaos with steely calmness, "There was something in their food. One of them survived—Charlotte."
The mention of her name made Charlotte visibly tremble, her eyes wide with fear. Lucas knew she was innocent, a pawn in a larger scheme. "Louis, go home," he commanded, dismissing further protest.
Turning to Charlotte, Lucas gestured towards the awaiting carriage. "We're heading to Ravencrest Castle," he announced, his gaze unwavering as they embarked on a journey fraught with danger and deception.