Chapter 6 - The Cipher on the Parchment
“What does it say, Clara?” Julian asked, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and struggling to his feet as the echoes of Richard’s furious curses faded into the damp subterranean air.
Clara stared at the parchment, her chest tightening as she recognized the handwriting. It wasn’t a royal decree from the crown prosecutor at all; it was a personal note penned in the hurried, jagged script of their late uncle’s silent financial partner—a man the high society believed had died in a shipwreck five years ago.
“It’s not over, Julian,” Clara said quietly, her voice devoid of panic but laced with a profound, chilling realization. “Richard was only the branch. The roots of this conspiracy run straight into the heart of the royal treasury.”
Commander Vance stepped closer, his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. “We intercepted a coded telegram leaving the estate’s private relay tower just moments before we breached the gates. The recipient wasn’t a domestic merchant. It was routed directly to the Prime Minister’s private residence.”
Julian gasped, dropping the red ledger onto the central desk with a dull thud. “The Prime Minister? But he was our father’s closest lifelong friend! He gave the eulogy at their funeral!”
“Power makes strangers of the best of friends, little brother,” Clara replied, folding the parchment and slipping it securely into the deep pocket of her grey apron. “If the Prime Minister is involved, then the entire judicial system, the police, and the royal guard could have compromised elements within their ranks. We can’t trust anyone outside these walls.”
Commander Vance nodded solemnly, placing a gloved hand on the pommel of his dress saber. “My men are loyal to the crown, Lady Clara, but our numbers are thin. If we attempt to transport Lord Richard to the capital tonight, we risk an ambush on the King’s Highway.”
“Then we don’t take him to the capital tonight,” Clara declared, her brown eyes flashing with fierce determination. “We lock him in the estate’s secure holding cell beneath the east wing, and we find out who else is on his payroll before sunrise.”
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Suddenly, a sharp, piercing alarm echoed through the subterranean vaults—a high-pitched mechanical shriek that neither Clara nor Commander Vance had ever heard before.
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