Bound To The Ruthless Lycan

Chapter 7 : Blueprint of the Mass acre

"Demand an explanation right now?!" snapped Lady Bran, glaring at the guard with a hysterical expression.

Cassandra, who had been cornered after her poisoned tea was exposed, suddenly smirked behind her pale face. "You see? Your own people refuse to be led by a former mute slave. You'll never be accepted here, Seraphine!"

I stared at Cassandra without blinking. "Shut your mouth, Cassandra."

I turned back to the guard still kneeling on the stone floor. "Where is Alpha Damon right now?"

"The Alpha is holding off the crowd at the main gate of the fortress, Luna!" the guard answered quickly. "The council lords are starting to gather there too, taking advantage of the people's rage!"

Lady Bran stepped forward, haughtily adjusting her dress. "We must go to the main gate right now! You have to explain your origins in front of the people!"

"I'm not going to the gate," I said firmly.

"What?!" Lady Bran gasped in shock. "You want to hide like a coward?!"

"If I go there now, I'll only be playing into the hands of whoever spread this rumor," I answered coldly. "The three of you, stay here and clean up this poisoned tea mess before the Alpha hears about it."

Without waiting for a response from the noblewomen staring in confusion, I walked out of the Tea Room. I didn't head toward the front gate where the crowd was shouting. Instead, I turned into a side corridor, going down a flight of stone stairs that grew darker, colder, and dustier with every step.

I was heading to the place I knew best for the past three years. The Royal Kitchens.

The smell of woodsmoke, roasting fat, and soot hit my senses the moment I pushed open the heavy wooden door at the end of the underground hallway. The massive kitchen was noisy with the clatter of cauldrons and the crackle of fire. A dozen servants and cooks were bustling about, sweat glistening on their brows.

As soon as my footsteps echoed in the room, the bustling kitchen instantly fell silent.

One by one, the servants turned around. Wooden bowls clattered to the floor, meat cleavers stopped mid-slice, and a dead silence settled over the kitchen. They stared at me, eyes wide. To them, I was no longer Seraphine, the scruffy girl who used to sweep ash in the corner. I stood before them wearing a red velvet gown, my hair neatly done.

Gerta, the plump head cook who used to throw stale bread crusts at me, stepped forward. Her rough hand gripped a large wooden spoon.

"Sera?" Gerta whispered, her voice trembling in astonishment. "You... you're really the new Luna to-be? You can talk?"

I stepped closer to the wooden cutting table covered in vegetables. Pulling back the sleeves of my red velvet dress slightly, I picked up a small paring knife lying on the table.

"I could always talk, Gerta," I said softly, looking into the older woman's eyes.

Marta, a cauldron scrubber who used to share a thin blanket with me in the servants' barracks, took two hesitant steps forward, her face full of fear. "So for the past three years, you've been lying to us all, Sera?"

"I was forced to hide just to survive, Marta," I answered honestly, looking straight at her. "But I've never forgotten who gave me warm water when I was cold, or who shared her bread when my stomach was empty."

Gerta let out a long sigh, setting her wooden spoon down on the table. "Outside, the townspeople are screaming for your head. The lords say you're a filthy slave who snuck into the King's quarters."

"Those lords know nothing," I cut in quickly. I looked around the room, meeting the eyes of every servant, soot sweeper, and wood carrier standing frozen.

"You sweep the floors they walk on, and you hear every whisper they think is a secret," I said, my voice ringing clearly through every corner of the kitchen. "You know which lord is selling off the people's grain rations, which lord is taking bribes, and who brings strange women into the fortress chambers at night. Help me, and you will never be slaves again."

The kitchen grew even quieter. The only sound left was the crackle of the fire beneath the heavy cauldrons.

"Why should we trust you?" asked a young wood hauler from the corner. "If those lords find out we leaked their secrets, our heads will be the first ones on the chopping block."

"Because if I become Luna of this castle, you will never have to fear the crack of a guard's whip again," I said firmly. "I know what it feels like to sleep on a cold stone floor. I know what hunger feels like. I won't let you keep living like animals beneath their feet."

Marta looked at Gerta. "Gerta, Sera saved my little brother when he was terribly sick two years ago. She secretly brewed an herbal remedy from roots."

Gerta remained silent for a moment, studying my face for a long time. Then, the old woman walked toward the back door of the kitchen leading to the ash disposal room.

"Marta, lock the front kitchen door," Gerta commanded abruptly. "Don't let any guards or cupbearers in."

"Yes, Gerta!" Marta immediately ran over and slid the wooden latch across the front door.

Gerta gestured with her head. "Follow me, Sera. There's something you need to see."

I followed Gerta into the dark, ash-choked room. The air was stifling, thick with the scent of soot and burnt wood.

Gerta walked to the corner of the stone wall behind the massive hearth. Kneeling down, she pried away a few loose bricks near the floor and pulled out a wooden box wrapped in a faded black oilcloth.

"What is this, Gerta?" I asked, kneeling beside her in the stone dust.

Gerta unwrapped the oilcloth, revealing a thick notebook crammed with yellowed, faded papers. Its leather cover felt greasy and smelled of kitchen smoke.

"We might just be kitchen servants to those high-and-mighty nobles," Gerta said, handing the book to me. "But we aren't stupid. For the past five years, every time those lords threw a secret letter into the trash, or ordered us to clear their meeting tables after getting drunk, we wrote it all down."

I opened the first page of the book. The handwriting was a chicken-scratch mix from various people, but the contents were startlingly clear and organized.

There were dates, names of lords, bribe amounts, black-market weapon shipment schedules, and even dark personal secrets of High Council members.

"This..." I stared at Gerta, unable to hide my shock. "These are all the black-market records of the high council?"

"The head cook before me started it," Gerta replied with a faint smile. "She said that one day, these records might save our lives if the lords ever decide to slaughter the kitchen staff. Now, this record belongs to you, Sera. Use it to destroy the people who call you a filthy slave."

My heart pounded in my chest. This wasn't just a ledger; it was the most lethal weapon possible—one that could bring down half the nobility's power in this fortress.

"Thank you, Gerta," I said sincerely, pulling the old woman into a brief hug. "This is worth more than a hundred silver swords."

I quickly flipped through the remaining pages, searching for Lord Vane's name and any documents regarding the southern territories—my family's homeland. My fingers stopped on a yellowed sheet tucked into the back of the book. The handwriting on it was dated three years ago, on the exact night my family's fortress was burned to the ground.

The note was written by one of the servants from the King's private archive room.

A single wooden chest from Silverwood Fortress was secretly moved to Alpha Damon's underground vault. Inside: the blueprints and secret defense routes of the Pureblood Silverwood family.

My breath hitched in my throat. I stared at the words repeatedly to make sure I hadn't misread them.

The blueprints for my home's defense. A secret map known only to my father and the highest-ranking commanders of Silverwood.

Why were my family's defense maps in Damon's secret vault? Was Damon truly involved in the m******e that night, or was there another reason why he had hidden my family's blueprints for the past three years?

"Sera?" Gerta asked, noticing the sudden shift in my expression. "What is it? Did you find something?"

I snapped the leather notebook shut, clutching it tightly to my chest.

"Gerta," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage and fear. "How do I get into the private vault beneath Alpha Damon's tower without the guards noticing?"