Brie looked at her crying assistant. She saw the absolute terror in the young girl’s eyes.

Brie quickly raised her heavily bandaged hands. She signaled for her to calm down immediately, shushing her quietly so the guards outside would not hear the panic.

Brie’s mind worked quickly. She looked at the broken object on the floor. Then, she slowly lifted her eyes and looked directly at Camilla, who was standing quietly near the desk, looking completely calm.

A very dark, evil plan formed inside Brie’s mind. This was her perfect chance. She could completely destroy this arrogant noblewoman once and for all. If the Lady was blamed for breaking the King’s gift, the General would definitely deal with her. It was a two against one confession. He would surely believe them.

Brie stepped slightly in front of Mildred, protecting her assistant. She turned her full, angry attention to Camilla.

Brie stood up very straight. She put on a face of absolute, righteous fury.

"Lady Camilla," Brie announced loudly, her voice echoing in the quiet tent. Her tone was sharp, accusing, and completely confident.

Brie pointed a white, bandaged finger directly at the shattered object on the floorboards.

"You broke the general’s most precious gift," Brie accused her openly, completely twisting the truth to fit her own evil plan.

Mildred, standing behind Brie, stopped crying for a second. She realized what her superior was doing. Mildred quickly nodded her head in agreement, ready to lie and support the false accusation to save her own neck.

Brie took a bold step closer to Camilla.

"It was given as a very high reward by His Majesty himself," Brie continued, her voice rising with fake shock and horror. "You dare break a sacred item given directly by the crown? Are you completely insane?"

Brie glared at Camilla, feeling incredibly powerful. She finally had the upper hand.

"You can’t afford the consequences of this crime," Brie threatened her coldly. "The General will not forgive you for this. Your noble title will not save you from a military execution."

Camilla stood perfectly still. She listened to the physician’s loud, dramatic threats. She looked at Mildred hiding behind the tall woman.

Camilla nodded her head slowly in agreement.

"You are right," She said simply. Her voice was completely flat and calm.

Brie blinked. She was surprised that the Lady had agreed so quickly. She expected the girl to scream her innocence.

"Give me a minute," Camilla added softly.

Without saying another word, Camilla turned around. She walked calmly and gracefully toward the front of the tent. She pushed the canvas flap aside and walked completely out of the General’s private command tent.

Brie and Mildred were left standing alone inside. They looked at each other in total confusion.

Less than sixty seconds later, the canvas flap pushed open again.

Camilla walked back into the tent. She walked back to the desk and stood there, looking completely relaxed. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"Give me five minutes," Camilla announced smoothly, looking directly at Brie.

Brie stared at her, completely confused. The physician’s eyebrows pulled tightly together.

"What are you planning?" Brie asked sharply. She did not like this calm behavior. It made her feel nervous.

Camilla smiled. It was a very small, highly mysterious smile.

"I need someone to confirm something for me," Camilla replied simply. She did not explain any further. She just stood there, waiting patiently.

Brie stared at the young woman. The physician’s mind raced wildly, trying to figure out what the Lady had just done outside the tent.

Brie thought to herself, her internal voice filled with deep suspicion.

"Is she going to call the General?" Brie wondered in her mind. "Did the Lady send a guard to fetch Damon from his meeting?"

Brie quickly shook her head from side to side.

"Impossible," Brie thought to herself with complete, absolute certainty. A smug smile returned to her beautiful face.

She knew the rules of this camp better than anyone.

"The General absolutely hates interruptions when he is in an important strategy meeting," Brie thought, feeling very secure in her knowledge. "He has explicitly ordered the guards never to disturb him, even for emergencies. He can’t even come right now if he wanted to. He won’t leave the command tent for the next hour."

Brie crossed her bandaged arms over her chest. She glared at Camilla confidently.

"What is she up to?" Brie wondered. "It doesn’t matter. She has no power here. Nobody will help her."

They stood in total silence. The minutes ticked by slowly. The only sound was the distant clashing of swords from the training field outside.

One minute passed. Two minutes passed.

Mildred shifted nervously on her feet, staring at the object on the floor. Brie stood tall, waiting for the Lady’s foolish plan to fail.

Exactly five minutes later, the canvas flap at the front of the tent was pushed completely open.

Someone stepped inside the quiet tent.

It was not a heavily armored guard. It was not even Damon.

It was an older man, dressed in a perfectly tailored, completely spotless, incredibly expensive black suit. His grey hair was combed neatly back. He stood very straight, and his face was a mask of polite, absolute authority.

It was Mr. Murry.

The moment Mr. Murry stepped fully into the tent, the atmosphere changed completely.

Brie and Mildred completely, utterly froze on the spot.

They stopped breathing. Their eyes widened in absolute shock and deep terror. The smug, confident smile on Brie’s face vanished entirely, replaced by a look of pure dread.

They did not fear the General’s wife, but they absolutely, utterly feared the man standing in the doorway.

Everyone in the entire kingdom, from the lowest kitchen maid to the highest military officer, knew exactly who Mr. Murry was.

He was not just a simple, old man. He was the most trusted, loyal, and powerful servant in the entire Benson family. He directly served Duke Carson, the head of the family. And more importantly, everyone knew that when the old Duke was not present, Mr. Murry sometimes acted as his absolute, direct proxy.

Sometimes, his words were the old Duke’s words. His decisions were the old Duke’s decisions.

Murry stood in the doorway. He placed his hands neatly behind his back.

He looked around the quiet tent. He looked at the two terrified women in white medical aprons. He looked down at the broken pieces scattered across the wooden floorboards.

Finally, Murry looked at Camilla, who was standing calmly near the desk.