The grand study in the Ryde's residence was dark, except for the dim, flickering yellow light of a single candle sitting on a large desk.
Lord Ryde stood still near the tall glass windows. He had his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He was staring out into the dark night. He watched drops of rain hit the clear glass. The water slid down the windowpanes like fast, continuous tears.
Behind him, the door of the study was open.
A tall armored guard stood in the center of the room. The guard's metal boots were wet, leaving small, muddy footprints on the clean floor. The guard slowly lowered his body. He went down on one knee. He placed his right hand firmly flat against his breastplate. He bowed his head, staring at the floor.
The guard took a short, nervous breath. He had to deliver terrible news, and he was terrified of the Earl's reaction.
"My lord," the kneeling guard spoke. His voice was slightly shaky, echoing softly in the large, quiet room.
