Kade did not ask any more questions. The aide bowed deeply. "Yes, General."
Kade turned around quickly and walked out of the holding tent. Damon remained alone with the trembling spy. Damon did not say a word. He simply stared down at the man. The heavy, suffocating silence was more terrifying to the spy than another physical blow. The spy kept his head pressed against the dirt, praying for his life.
A few minutes later, the canvas flap opened. Kade stepped back inside.
He was carrying a smooth wooden writing board, a blank piece of rough parchment paper, a small glass bottle of ink, and a feather quill.
Kade walked over to the spy. He placed the wooden board down onto the dirt floor right in front of the kneeling man's knees. He set the paper flat on the board, opened the ink bottle, and placed the feather quill beside it. He took out a dagger and cut the spy's wrist free.
Damon took a slow step forward. His boots stopped just an inch away from the spy's shaking hands.
