Chapter 685: Reynolds
"Hmm… you even removed our sofas. And my mother's favorite portraits?" he added, voice laced with contempt.
The silver-armored woman realized the intruders were too powerful to handle and screamed,
"HELP!"
The first to respond was a wrinkled old man from the kitchen. Around 80 or 90, he had a frail frame, deep amber eyes, and wore round glasses. In one hand, he held a wooden cane, and in the other, a rolled leaf.
Despite his disheveled and intoxicated appearance, Charles recognized him immediately.
Bishop Reynolds.
He stumbled into the living room, peering uncertainly in their direction.
"Mary?" he mumbled, squinting and adjusting his glasses. He tried to walk but nearly fell.
"You alright?" he called out. Though he could see vague silhouettes, his vision was too poor to make them out.
"Lord David? Some guests have arrived. Please come down!" he shouted, stuffing the leaf into his mouth.
His vision slowly cleared, and he steadied himself.
