THE ASC3NDANTS Awakening. (III) ✔[#Wattys2019]

Chapter (3)

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Somewhere within the depths of the woods on the outskirts of Winchesters hunting grounds, a certain cottage stood alone with a water mill drawing water from a certain go-by stream. Across the long stretch of trees, a stranger dressed like a rebel and then closed in toward the stream that separated the cottage gardens from the rest of the forest. He paused and scanned the area with such a frown across his face.
He dismounted from his horse where the stream met the deeper outstretch of the forest from the south. He left it some distance and then without trying to hide at all closed in towards the cottage. He held a certain gun under his arm and walked straight as if he was here for one thing which must be done without fail!
A woman of about 57 years old was walking past her window with a pile of two books. It is as if she was parking a few of her library belongings and would leave in a while when she spotted a movement. She paused by the window. Pulled the curtain lightly aside and glanced out only to look into the muzzle of a firearm. She knew this type of gun. It was MOTH design. What did the MOTH want with her? And wait a min... wasn't this Sir Emberlain's son Malcolm Dorf closing in on her? What had she done to them?
Before she could even get a moment to think, there was a shot and the window was shattered to pieces. It was at this moment when she realized, her life was at stake and that she had to move first. From clear reasoning, she had received news that his father had been murdered by an agent from the other two MOTH masters of Orghum town upper town. And he was seeking revenge. Whoever had done the murder, no one knew but she had remained believing that it was not his father's counterparts who had murdered his father. There was a controversy in this murder. And by the show of things, there would be no time to reason this out with this young man. If he was firing at her on sight, then she had to get out of sight before it was too late.
Then she recalled that whenever a members of MOTH were murdered, their personal life's research works were confiscated. Whoever was behind this, she had no doubt but her Nephew, Prince Henry. She had disappointed him when she did not respond to his dream as he had expected. She had denied family and now the consequences could not go past her no matter her linkage to the crown.
Immediately, she turned and rushed towards her study room. She pulled the fireplace out of position. And right under the fireplace was a set of block sections with scrolls and books slotted down into position so well. She immediately took off the lid... and just when the first kick hit the door so hard, she pushed the fireplace back in position but then it was stuck somehow. She struggled with it in panic but then there was no time. Whatever was spoilt would do so but she had to move now.
Then she turned toward her living room table. There was her monthly work. It was depicting certain positions along the docks of Winchester. She was trying to mark out or track something using the map of the tunnel system, which lay under the whole of Winchester. She rushed up to the map which was in pieces pinned together to form a complete blueprint of the search she was on. Whatever it was I cannot mention right now. But somewhere at the top was pinned a later from Lord Charlmain himself. And it's like he was the influence behind this search. She hurried up to the side of the letter and quickly spoke as if to it but also in great concern and worry as well as a distinct feeling of regret.
"This too fails darling, I'm so so sorry..." and she took the letter with a heavy wrinkle under her palm. Tore it off the table. Followed by half the rest of the brownish papers on the table... she rushed toward the fire and thrust them into the fire quickly. She was panicking now when the door collapsed. She heard it fall in with a loud bang hitting the tale out of place. She wanted to run but she could leave nothing behind. She hoped the rest of her work burnt just in time under the fireplace. And as she tore the remaining of the mark of the table, she turned face to face with Malcolm. She froze uttering his name halfway in question.
"Malco-?"
And when she took her next step, he shot.
Mrs. Annabel fell back. Her MOTH membership medallion swung up into the air. Malcolm looked so annoyed and so determined at the same time. He had been misdirected! Similarly, he had been misinformed that Mrs. Annabel too had participated in the murder of his father, which was not true! It is the reason the Prince had instructed that she alone be captured alive! However, he was not going to do this. She deserved the same fate as the rest! And it was done!
Quickly, he rushed towards the fireplace, which to anyone's quick observation showed that it was not in its usual position from where he stood over the woman's body, he could see a stuck of burning books under there and smoke was rising from there too. Something was under concealment there! He pushed it out of the way and with a strong jerk, pulled the stuck out from under. It required good strength but he had to do this lest he had nothing to show for his work here.
When that was done he packed up everything into a wooden box off the shelf on the other side of the room and after that took up the strange map of Winchester's tunnels which focused so much around the dock of Winchester where he had first noticed her last week before he followed her to her secret cottage. This mission was over and was his last. She was the last of the MOTH leaders and he was the last of those responsible for the further control of Orghum town uptown wealth if all went well.
Having placed everything in the wooden box, he turned to the Mrs. Annabel's body, took hold of her MOTH medallion, tore it from her neck and stood for a second to make sure he was not leaving anything else of importance behind. Nothing!
He turned back toward the burning fireplace, took a piece of wood from the fireplace and held it against the curtains of the window and a few wooden things along the way ad he exited. Reaching the door, he dropped it and started out back into the wood and across the stream. His last glance brought relief to his mind as the water mill started to burn and the rest of the cottage now in flames with thick dark smoke. It was coming to five in the evening when he completed this as his final mission.
***
Prince Henry's coach comes to a halt right in front of certain House. His peg boy opens the door for him and he steps out. He scans the environment as the rest of the escorting coaches make a curve around the royal coach.
Before he was a wooden mailbox with several letters which were not of any interest to him stuck out so slightly under the cover. And on the top of this was a little signpost written on it Mr. Klopp. He took a deep breath. Fixing his long collar, he started up the cobblestones toward the entrance set off a few rooftop doves flapping off in fright.