Bourby bowed and scraped, rubbing his hands obsequiously.
Lord Doyle's former manservant stood at the head of the cavalry troop and lowered his voice. "There should be four guards here, but there's a banquet tonight, so they've been recalled-this has happened before! I'll go back to the manor first, then lower the drawbridge for you!"
With that, Bourby looked at the lead horseman.
But no answer came. Instead, the horseman's mount snorted hot breath through its nostrils, giving Bourby a fright.
Bourby stumbled backward and finally fell flat on the ground.
He grimaced in pain but dared not complain. Instead, he scrambled up at once and continued smiling ingratiatingly at the horseman before him.
"Go!"
This time, the lead horseman finally spoke.
As though granted a pardon, Bourby turned and ran toward Oak Manor.
"Heh. Doyle?"
The lead horseman sneered.
His voice carried an indescribable mixture of mockery and hatred.
And...
Anticipation!
He could hardly wait to burn all of Oak Manor to the ground.
So he waited patiently.
Waited for the drawbridge to come down.
Bourby hurried along the forked path. He knew this path so well he could have found his way back with his eyes closed, yet for some reason, he felt terrified tonight.
Will I be discovered?
No! No!
I'm just nervous!
That's right, just nervous!
Once tonight is over, I'll be Master Bourby!
As Bourby reassured himself, he immediately quickened his pace.
Soon, Bourby reached the drawbridge and shouted-
"It's me, Bourby!"
His voice carried far into the night.
"Bourby, where have you been?"
"The banquet has already started!"
Albert's voice gave Bourby a terrible fright. He had not expected the chief huntsman and swordmaster to be guarding the drawbridge, but the subsequent sound of the winch turning let him breathe a sigh of relief.