Page 54 of Redemption for the Baron

The memory surfaced unbidden, taking on a more ominous meaning now.

She turned to Thomas, her voice low. “If Blackwood’s family had been entwined with the Order for centuries, then he’s not just another obstacle.” She hesitated, the weight of the realization settling in. “He might be the key to all of this.”

Thomas’s jaw tensed. “Or the greatest threat we’ve faced yet.”

Bridget nodded, the silence stretching between them. It wasn’t ominous, but reflective. The kind of quiet that accompanied understanding.

Tresham, sensing the shift, quietly returned to his notes. No one rushed to speak again.

The fire crackled softly. The parchment lay open between them. At last, the truth had a name; it was Blackwood.

Chapter Nineteen

Around the broadoak table, Bridget, Thomas, Barrington, Townsend, and Tresham studied the brittle pages spread before them. Their edges curled with age. Professor Tresham adjusted his spectacles, fingers hovering over the faded script, his brows knitted in intrigue.

“This text isn’t just a record. It’s a cipher,” the professor cleared his throat, “an instruction on how power is maintained. Not wealth or land, but influence. It speaks of leveraging alliances, toppling adversaries, manipulating rulers, and all from the shadows. To possess what’s written here isn’t about owning a kingdom. It’s about ensuring that whoever does remains in your debt.”

His fingertip traced along a particular line until he came to a stop, tapping the document where his finger landed. “Alastair must have believed this referenced something tangible, but it’s more than that. It speaks of something lost, something that must not fall into the wrong hands. Something that could change the course of nations if wielded properly.”

Barrington leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “Lost? Are we speaking of an artifact? A document? A person?”

Tresham hesitated. “That’s the question. The Order’s legend speaks of a source of power so influential that to possess it would mean absolute control. There are references to lost histories, rewritten accounts, and carefully placed figures of authority.But the wording is frustratingly cryptic. It speaks of ‘the key to dominion hidden in plain sight, veiled by knowledge itself.’”

“Are you certain of your interpretation?” Barrington interjected, his expression skeptical. “Men have misread prophecies before. Could Alastair have seen danger where there was none?”

Tresham pursed his lips. “I would argue the opposite. If anything, the wording is deliberately confusing. Someone didn’t want this knowledge to be easily accessible.”

Bridget nodded. “That’s common in oral traditions, layering meaning so only those with the right knowledge can decipher it. My father used to say the oldest truths were hidden in plain sight.”

Thomas shot her a glance, something flickering in his eyes before he looked away.

Bridget frowned, leaning closer. “Some of these markings don’t translate directly,” she murmured, running her finger along the text. “It’s an older dialect, likely a blend of Latin and Old Scots, but there are regional symbols I don’t recognize.”

Thomas removed a sheaf of parchment from his pocket and laid it on the table. He tapped the brittle page, his brow furrowing. “Professor, we found this hidden in Alastair’s desk. Is there any chance you could decipher more of this? If Alastair believed this document was important enough to hide, then we need to know why.” His voice was calm, but urgency simmered beneath it.”

Tresham exhaled through his nose, adjusting his spectacles as he studied the page again. “Given time, possibly. But I’ll need reference materials. Some of these symbols are unfamiliar, and the blend of Latin and Old Scots is inconsistent. If this was meant to obscure meaning, it was done skillfully. Leave it with me and I will see what I can do.”

Bridget hesitated. “My father used to tell a story about the lost words of the Druids. Some of this reminds me of that.”

Townsend exhaled sharply. “Are we chasing a ghost, or do you truly believe this is worth bloodshed?”

“The Order doesn’t waste their efforts.” Thomas’s voice was firm. “If they want this, there is a reason.”

Townsend rubbed his jaw. “That sounds like something Scofield will want to see. If this document outlines how the Order has infiltrated key institutions and how they have controlled policies, wars, and even sovereigns, then this isn’t just history. It’s an active threat. If they still have access to these people, they’re still pulling strings. That’s not something the Crown can afford to ignore.”

Bridget studied the text carefully. “It’s not just about information. It’s about control. The Order doesn’t simply seek knowledge. They seek to own it, bend it, wield it like a weapon. If Alastair has pieced together that truth, it’s no wonder they wanted him silenced.”

A sharp rap at the door interrupted them. Mr. Simmons entered, his expression uneasy as he presented a sealed envelope. “This just arrived, Lord Barrington. There was no name on the delivery.” Mr. Simmons hesitated before stepping back. “It was left at the servants’ entrance, my lord. No one saw who delivered it.”

Barrington took the letter and broke the seal. As his eyes scanned the contents, his jaw tightened. He handed it to Townsend without a word.

Townsend read aloud. “The price of secrets is blood. Surrender what was taken or more will be spilled. There are no second chances.”

Bridget exhaled, the chill creeping through her bones. The words on the parchment felt like a promise, not a warning. Her breath caught. Without thinking, she took a half step closer toThomas, drawn by his quiet intensity that steadied her even now. She could feel the heat of his presence, the quiet intensity that had become familiar. But he said nothing, only tilting his head slightly as Townsend spoke.

“Do you believe they’ll act soon?” Townsend’s voice was sharp, controlled. “Or is this meant to rattle us?”

“They wouldn’t threaten if they weren’t prepared to follow through,” Barrington muttered. “We need to be ready.”

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