"Bring it in," Carlos ordered.
Two guards, the ones from outside who were now loyal to him, walked in. They were carrying a heavy wooden trunk. It was iron-bound and sturdy. They groaned under the weight as they shuffled into the room.
Adams sat up straighter. His eyes locked onto the trunk. His breathing quickened.
He recognized it imdiately. It was his chest. The one Derek had confiscated. The one filled with his "private assets." The gold he had thought was lost forever.
The guards set the trunk down on the floor in the center of the room.
Thud.
The sound was heavy and promising.
Adams got out of bed. He walked toward it, his hands reaching out, his fingers twitching.
"My gold," he whispered.
Carlos walked to the trunk. He flipped the latch. He opened the lid.
The light from the window hit the contents. Gold bars glead and sparkled. It was a fortune. It was enough to buy a lordship. It was enough to buy an army.
Adams smiled. It was a smile of pure greed. He took a step forward, ready to claim his property.
"These are the assets the Grand Duke confiscated," Carlos said, his voice smooth. "I am returning them to you. As a sign of good faith. As a sign of our new friendship."
Adams reached for a gold bar. His hand was inches away.
Bang.
Carlos slamd the lid shut. He did it hard, right in front of Adams’s fingers.
Adams flinched back, pulling his hand away just in ti. He looked at Carlos, confused and angry.
"What is the aning of this?" Adams asked, his voice rising. "You said you were returning them. That is my property."
Carlos rested his hand on the lid of the trunk. He leaned on it, putting his weight behind it. He smiled. It was the sa greedy smile he had worn when he asked Ashlyn for money. It was the smile of a man who held all the cards.
"I am returning them," Carlos said. "But there is a fee."
"A fee?" Adams asked, outraged. "That is my money. You are stealing from the church!"
"I am the one who freed you," Carlos reminded him, his voice hard. "I am the one who holds the Prince’s token. I am the one in charge now. Without , you would still be a prisoner. Without , this gold would be in the Royal Treasury."
Carlos tapped his finger on the wood of the trunk.
"I want a percentage," Carlos said. "A finder’s fee. For keeping it safe from my brother. For delivering it to your door."
Adams narrowed his eyes. He calculated. Losing a little gold was better than losing it all. He was a pragmatic man.
"Fine," Adams said. "Ten percent."
Carlos laughed. "Thirty."
Adams gritted his teeth. "Twenty. And not a coin more."
"Done," Carlos said.
But he didn’t move his hand from the lid.
"And," Carlos added, his eyes gleaming with a new ambition. "There is sothing else."
"What?" Adams snapped. "You have your gold."
"I want your recomndation," Carlos said.
He stood up straight, puffing out his chest, trying to look like the hero he pretended to be.
"I want you to write to the King," Carlos explained. "I want you to tell him about my involvent in the plague relief. I want an official comndation from the High Priest."
Adams looked at him blankly. "Your involvent? You did nothing."
"Yes," Carlos said, unashad. "The Grand Duke is dead. He cannot claim the credit. He cannot speak. But I was there. I was his aide. I was the face of the relief effort."
Carlos looked at the priest with intense, ambitious eyes.
"I want you to say that Strathmore’s relief from the plague is thanks to my tireless efforts," Carlos lied. "Say that I worked day and night with the Grand Duke. Say that I organized the distribution. Say that I risked my own life to save the commoners. Say that I am a hero."
Adams stared at him. He knew Carlos was lying. He knew Carlos was a coward. He knew Carlos had probably spent the plague drinking wine in a cellar.
But Adams didn’t care about the truth. He cared about his gold. And he cared about having an ally in the Thompson family who was corruptible, soone he could control. Derek had been impossible to bribe. Carlos... Carlos was easy.
Adams smiled. It was a conspiratorial smile.
"Ah," Adams said. "I see. You want glory."
He walked over to his desk. He picked up a quill and a piece of fine parchnt.
"Strathmore’s relief is indeed a miracle," Adams said smoothly. "And the King should know who to thank. It would be a sha for such heroism to go unnoticed."
He looked at Carlos.
"I will personally docunt your achievents," Adams promised. "I will write a letter that will make you look like hero. I will say you and the Grand Duke eradicated the plague and now he’s dead, the reward should be given to you, his brother, who shared in his responsibility."
Carlos smiled. It was exactly what he wanted. He could see the Royal rewards on his hands already.
"Excellent," Carlos said.
Adams put the quill down. He looked at the wine decanter on the table.
"I noticed," Adams said, walking back to the table where a decanter sat. "You love the wine I served the last ti. The vintage from the southern slopes. You seed to enjoy it greatly."
Carlos licked his lips. He rembered the taste. Rich. Sweet. Expensive.
"I do," Carlos admitted.
"I will arrange for a bottle to be sent to your quarters," Adams said. "A whole crate, actually. To celebrate your accomplishnt. And your new position as the head of the Thompson family."
Carlos bead. He felt like a king. He had the gold. He had the glory. And he had the wine.
"Please do," Carlos said. "I will drink to our partnership."
He lifted his hand from the trunk.
Adams signaled his own servants to take the gold away.
Carlos watched it go, calculating his twenty percent.
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