MATED TO THE SECRET ALPHA
Chapter 77: Master Sharp Fangs

Chapter 77: Master Sharp Fangs

A grizzled old man burst out of the mansion’s front door, his weathered face etched with deep lines of anxiety and urgency.

"Master Sharp Fangs!" he called, his tone dripping with reverence as he hastened towards Ryder. He bowed deeply, his hands clasped together in a gesture of deference. "Village head awaits you. Please, follow me."

The group was taken aback by the old man’s formal address, and their surprise quickly gave way to amusement. Mirian was the first to lose composure, bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"Master Sharp Fangs!" she choked out, her eyes shining with mirth as she made fun of Ryder.

Steve couldn’t hold back either, and soon he was laughing alongside Mirian. Kira’s lips curved into a smile, and the rest of the group members exchanged giggles, their initial seriousness forgotten in the face of Ryder’s absurdly formal title.

Who bears such a name? Except he intended to inspire fear in the humans. And judging by the old man’s reverent demeanor, it was clear that Ryder had succeeded in commanding respect – or perhaps even intimidating those around him.

No wonder he’s not humble, despite being a mere servant, Mirian thought with a roll of her eyes.

However, Reana’s expression remained inscrutable, her face a mask of calmness, as if the joke flew over her head. But her eyes betrayed her interest, narrowing slightly as she watched the old man cower before Ryder.

Ryder’s smile was warm, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Butler Charleston, it’s been a while," he said, his voice low and smooth. Yet, he made no move to tell the old man to rise, and Charleston remained bowed, his back still hunched in a posture of deep respect.

"Please, lead the way," Ryder instructed, his tone courteous but firm.

Charleston nodded, still bowing, and backed away slowly before turning to lead them deeper into the mansion. "This way, Master Sharp Fangs," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly.

The guards took the horses from them and the group followed behind the butler, who led them through a hallway, arriving in the grand study, a room filled with towering bookshelves and the faint scent of old leather.

A stately figure rose from behind a massive mahogany desk, his eyes fixed intently on Ryder, with subtle respect. But unlike the Butler, he didn’t cower.

"Master Fangs," he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, his expression warm and genuine. "Welcome home. I see you’ve brought...friends." His gaze swept over Reana and the others, his smile never wavering, but a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"You’re too kind, Orion," Ryder chuckled as he strode further into the room. "I’m sorry for what happened to the village."

Orion waved his hand dismissively, "It’s of little consequence, Master Fangs. The village will be rebuilt, and our people will recover. What’s important is to get you all settled in." He moved his gaze to his butler, "Charleston, please see to it that our guests are provided with everything they need. Rooms, hot baths, and a hearty meal should be prepared immediately."

"Yes, Master," Butler Charleston turned to Reana and the others, "Please, come with me. I will show you to your rooms," then he turned to Ryder, "Master Sharp Fangs, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll return momentarily to attend to your needs as well." He bowed slightly to Ryder before gesturing for the others to follow him.

Reana hesitated, her gaze fixed on Ryder, who smiled unamusedly at her before looking away, and she frowned. This servant was doing more than himself, she thought, her eyes narrowing slightly as she turned to follow the butler.

As she left the study, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Ryder’s relationship with Orion and his staff than met the eye.

She understood that Orion was a family friend, as Ryder claimed, but what family friend would treat someone with such deference, bordering on reverence? The dynamic between Ryder and Orion’s staff was peculiar, to say the least.

After the group left, Ryder’s countenance changed, and Orion, who was treating him like a comrade a moment ago, dropped his head and made a deep bow,

"My lord, I apologize for the...informalities earlier. I did not wish to raise suspicions in front of your...companions."

"Rise, Orion," Ryder said, his voice now laced with an unmistakable air of authority. "I assume you got my message and understood it well?"

"Thank you, My lord," he straightened his back and smiled, "I received your message, and the necessary arrangements have been made, but it would take about two weeks for the farmers to replenish the stores."

"Two weeks..." Ryder drummed the desk with his fingers, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Too long. See to it that the harvest is expedited, Orion. I want those stores replenished within five days, no more." His voice was firm, brooking no argument.

Orion’s face contorted, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "Rushing the harvest will compromise its quality. With the recent invention, it would take at most five days for the crops to be due to harvest, and over seven days for the inventory to be restock."

He took a deep breath, "The farmers are already working tiredlessly at an accelerated pace due to the recent... disruptions. We’re short of workers."

Ryder’s fingers paused, his gaze snapping up to meet Orion’s, and the man cowered, lowering his head. After what seemed like forever, Ryder’s expression softened, ever so slightly. "Send words to Detroit. Tell him to send some warriors to assist," he said, his voice a shade less severe.

"Thank you, My lord." Orion’s voice was laced with relief as he bowed his head, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I will see to it immediately, My lord." He turned to leave, but Ryder’s voice stopped him.

"Orion?"

He turned back, his eyes cautious. "Yes, My lord?"

"Have you compensated the families who lost their loved ones in the attack?" Ryder’s gaze bore into Orion, his eyes searching for any sign of evasion.

Orion shook his head, "Not yet, My lord. The treasury is...low, and I was waiting for further instructions."

Ryder arched a brow, "Treachery is low?"

"Yes, My lord. The new project has eaten deep into our savings and the Southern island has not sent us funds in two years. I wrote to Tamara countless times, but no reply." Orion’s voice was laced with frustration, his eyes clouding over with concern.

Ryder’s expression turned thoughtful, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the desk. "Send another letter," he said finally, his voice firm. "And this time, make it clear that I expect a response...and restitution."

Orion smiled, "As you wish, My lord. I will draft the letter immediately and dispatch it to the Southern island via our fastest courier." He bowed his head, a hint of relief in his voice. "Thank you, My lord. Your guidance is, as always, wise and just."

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