Damon clenched his jaw tightly. He looked at the guards holding his arms.
"Let go," Damon ordered firmly. His voice lost some of its fake weakness.
He pushed himself away from the guards. He stood up straight on his own two feet, though he remembered to hold his left shoulder to maintain the act.
"I can walk," Damon told them strictly. He pointed his finger toward the iron gates. "Go back to your stations."
The guards looked at each other in confusion, but they did not dare to disobey a direct command from the General. They saluted quickly, turned around, and jogged back to their posts at the front gates.
Damon turned his body and began to walk slowly toward the wide stone stairs of the mansion. He purposely dragged his left foot slightly, adding a small, fake limp to his walk.
Mr. Murry quickly picked up his oil lamp. He rushed after Damon, following closely behind his master's back.
