Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1041

The carriage sped through the moonlit night, and within twenty minutes, the manor came into view, perched on a distant hillside. Every window blazed with light, suggesting a lively gathering was underway inside.

Jenkins declared after a single glance from the window, and Julia immediately ordered the carriage to a halt.

"Something is wrong. There are other Enchanters inside, besides Dolores."

A monocle materialized over his right eye, allowing him to better observe the spiritual auras from a distance. He narrowed his eyes, and the distant glows flared into focus as if they were right in front of him.

"No, they're not bodyguards or escorts," he clarified. "The two additional Enchanters are in the same room as Dolores, or perhaps just one wall away!"

With that, he leaped from the carriage, addressing Julia in a rushed, urgent tone:

"Julia, go find some help. I suspect something's happened at the manor. I'm going to get Dolores out. Whatever is going on, her safety comes first."

The young maid offered a slight bow, and without wasting a second on pleasantries, she decisively ordered the driver to turn around immediately.

By the time the carriage was speeding back down the road, Jenkins had already vanished from the spot where he'd been standing.

They had stopped quite close to the manor, and Jenkins initially worried he might be spotted. Yet, as he neared the main gate, there was no one in sight.

Even in mid-March, a hint of warmth had begun to touch Ruen. The ground was muddy, but the snow was finally starting to melt. A fleet of lavishly decorated carriages, belonging to the high-born young ladies attending the gathering, was parked neatly by the manor's gate.

The manor's iron gate was locked, but it was low enough for Jenkins to vault over with a running start.

Once inside the estate grounds, he donned his black robe. No matter what was unfolding within, the face of the famous author could absolutely not be seen in this city.

Guards patrolled the manor's courtyard, but they were ordinary men and stood no chance of spotting Jenkins. He paused by the main building's wall, deciding against the front entrance. Instead, he circled around to the side and began scaling a steam pipe with feline agility.

Dolores and the two Enchanters were on the third floor, so that was his destination. All the windows were covered by heavy curtains, meaning that while he couldn't see in, no one inside would be able to see him climbing.

Once he reached the right height, he gripped a protruding metal flange on the pipe, swung sideways, and hooked his right foot over the balcony railing. With a powerful heave, he vaulted onto the balcony, landing almost silently, as if his heavy boots were padded like a cat's paws.

He scanned his surroundings warily, confirming that no one had witnessed his ascent.

The balcony was furnished with a closed parasol, sheltering a handcrafted mahogany table and four ornate, Baroque-style white chairs.

This was clearly a spot for the room's occupant to enjoy afternoon tea, but with the curtains drawn so tightly, Jenkins couldn't discern the situation inside.

At least there were no Enchanters in this particular room. Jenkins stood before the balcony door, took a deep breath, and tested the handle. It was unlocked. Pistol in hand, he burst through, rolling into the room. A silencing charm was ready in his left hand, while his right leveled the gun at the room's occupants.

He was stunned. The number of people in the room far exceeded his expectations—a single pistol couldn't possibly cover them all. His eyes swept across the scene: at least twenty beautiful young women in voluminous gowns. Each was adorned with fine jewelry that glittered in the gaslight, and their delicate complexions and expensive attire marked them as the participants of the salon.

For a moment, silence hung between the armed intruder and the twenty-some young women he held at gunpoint. He was speechless, having never expected such a scene. They were speechless because their mouths were gagged, leaving them to stare with wide, tear-filled eyes at Jenkins and his pistol.

"Is this some kind of game?"

That was Jenkins's first reaction. He knew the nobles of this world were prone to peculiar pastimes. But he quickly dismissed the idea; tying up two dozen young women was clearly no game. Moreover, Julia had told him all the salon's attendees were young ladies, and surely not all of them shared Hathaway's particular inclinations.

Perhaps it was the prolonged threat of the gun, or the unnerving sight of his expressionless face, but by the time Jenkins snapped back to reality, the young women had huddled into a terrified, disheveled heap. If his silencing charm hadn't been active, their muffled whimpers would have surely been heard outside the room.

Unconcerned about them screaming, Jenkins holstered his pistol and casually pulled the cloth gag from the nearest girl's mouth. The gags were loose enough that they could have been spat out at any time, but the girls had clearly been too terrified to try.

"What happened here?"

He asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it. The now-ungagged girl shrank timidly back into the huddle of her friends:

"Someone broke in and locked us up! They're robbers!"

"Robbers... here?" Jenkins mused. "Fine. And what about Her Highness, Dolores Stuart?"

He wanted to pose as one of Dolores's subordinates.

"Dolores wasn't locked in here with us," she whispered. "They broke in about ten minutes ago."

They might be posing as robbers, Jenkins thought, but considering the presence of two powerful Enchanters, this was likely another plot hatched by Dolores's siblings. They must have seized the opportunity of her leaving the palace to make their move. The other girls here were also from prominent families; killing them all would cause an enormous scandal, which explained the clumsy nature of the kidnapping.

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He turned to leave, but the girl's timid voice stopped him.

"Could you... put the gag back in my mouth?"

After calming the terrified young women and getting a description of the manor's layout, Jenkins pushed open the door and stepped out. The scene in the hallway was horrific. Bodies were strewn everywhere, lying in tangled heaps. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the coppery tang of blood, a nauseating combination that made his skin crawl. Bullet holes riddled the walls and ceiling, and the painted faces in the portraits had been obliterated by the gunfire.

While the young ladies were unharmed, it was clear that the guards and bodyguards had died fighting. Jenkins carefully picked his way through the carnage, heading for the ballroom at the top of the stairs—the last known location of Dolores.