"Your Grace," Roger, the steward, approached him cautiously, his voice laced with a hint of urgency. "There's been a development concerning Luke."
Ryan's head snapped up, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. "A development? What is it?"
Roger cleared his throat, his face etched with concern. "Luke… he requested a sick leave a day before. Didn't come to work."
Disappointment washed over Ryan, a bitter taste in his mouth. "Sick leave?" he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. "Two days too late, wouldn't you say, Roger?"
Roger stammered, his eyes wide with fear. "I… I apologize, Your Grace. I wasn't aware…"
Ryan cut him off with a sharp gesture. "It doesn't matter now. Luke's probably miles away by now, hiding like a frightened rabbit."
