Chapter Hundred And Forty Three

The air in the stables was thick with the scent of hay and horse sweat. Excitement filled the air as the nobles, dressed in their finest hunting attire, began to select their mounts for the day's pursuit. The anticipation was palpable; the hunt was a time-honored tradition at Oakwood Manor, a display of both equestrian skill and social standing.

Byron, his brow furrowed in concentration, walked through the maze of stalls. He had been assisting his brother for what seemed like hours in their search for Count Edmund, but their efforts had yielded nothing. Ryan had insisted that something was amiss, that someone was targeting Edmund, and Byron, despite his initial skepticism, was starting to believe him.

As he rounded a corner, he noticed a figure moving with unnatural stealth amongst the horses. The figure was cloaked and masked, their face obscured from view. Byron's instincts screamed danger. This was no ordinary stable hand.