C26 CHAPTER26

"Exactly. The Devil Capital's map will guide us to our destination and reveal the necessary steps we need to take," Devon confirmed.

Lucas, who had been silent for some time, inquired, "How do we get it?"

"It's in my study," Devon replied, then turned to Hector. "Please, go to my study and fetch the map."

"Master, are you certain you want me to leave you alone with them?" Hector asked, his confusion evident.

"Yes, Hector, I'm certain. We're all on the same page now, and I trust they mean me no harm," Devon reassured him.

"As you command, Master," Hector acquiesced and vanished into thin air—quite literally.

Seymour, with a scowl etched on his face, remarked, "I had no idea you were this serious about fleeing, Third Prince Devon."

"You can't fathom what's in store for me if I don't make a run for it," Devon replied, forcing a smile.

The others continued to feast voraciously, and Devon watched with an irritated gaze. Why were they consuming so much food? Their relentless eating was unsettling to him.

"They're simply famished," Sarah offered, noticing Devon's perturbed expression.

"I see," Devon acknowledged, only to be startled by a rustling sound behind him. It was Hector. "How many times must I tell you not to creep up on me like that?" he chided.

"My apologies, Master," Hector panted, burdened by an enormous, seemingly heavy scroll crafted from sheepskin, its well-worn edges telling of frequent use.

"I trust you've brought the right map," Devon said.

"Indeed, Master. I'm certain of it," Hector assured him.

Devon's personal study, a room within his main chamber, was a creation of the Royal Father. It was filled with tomes on military might, power, warfare, leadership, and the art of instilling fear in subordinates—all deliberately arranged to mold Devon into a formidable Third Prince. However, destiny had other plans. Rather than immersing himself in these texts, Devon chose to lose himself in fantasy novels and computer-related literature whenever he retreated to his library. It wasn't long before Royal Father Christian realized that Devon would not fulfill the role of an ideal prince, a realization that brought him sorrow. Yet, what could he do?

Devon's indifference to territorial matters was so profound that he hadn't even bothered to study the map of the Devil Capital, despite it being placed right in his study. Two maps had been gathering dust in his library, never once unrolled from their scrolls.

This was the reason for the thick layer of dust on the map.

"Spread it out on the table," Devon instructed Hector, then addressed the others. "You'll need to find a new spot for your food."

Without hesitation, the men moved their half-eaten meals to the floor. Devon and Sarah cleared their respective sides of the table. Hector, Seymour, Devon, and Sarah positioned themselves around the table, unfurling the scroll, while Lucas, Zane, and the other two men continued to eat.

Devon's patience snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you? Is food all you care about? We're facing serious issues here, and you're fixated on stuffing your faces!"

Chastened, the men set down their plates and stood. "We apologize, Third Master. It's just that we haven't had a meal this good in a long while," they explained.

Devon rolled his eyes. "Let's get back to it," he said, refocusing on the scroll. Seymour wiped away the dust with a napkin to get a clear view of the drawings. Once the map was clean, he took out his pen and notepad, jotting down notes.

"What's your take, Seymour?" Devon asked.

"It's a complex map. We'll need to study it carefully to avoid mistakes in our plan," Seymour replied.

"We might not have that luxury of time," Sarah observed, glancing at Devon.

"You're right, we don't," Devon admitted, his thoughts on his impending marriage to Olivia in just three days.

"So, what's the plan?" Lucas inquired.

Devon was about to respond when Hector caught his attention, signaling that a guard had a message for him.

"Stay here; I'll return shortly," Devon instructed them before heading to the exit. In a hushed tone, he told Hector, "If they try to escape, take them down."

Hector tensed, his knuckles popping as he readied himself. "With pleasure, Master," he assured Devon.

Devon nodded and exited the dining room, immediately spotting the guard who had been searching for him. The guard's name was Bruce, a longstanding member of the Clan's security detail.

"Third Prince," Bruce greeted with a bow. "My respects."

"Respects to you too, Bruce. What's the word?" Devon inquired, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"I bring a message from Princess Olivia Tara Miller of the Beetle Kingdom," Bruce declared.

Devon fought the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of the princess's name, which reminded him of a certain insect. "Oh, really? And what might she...require?" he asked, mustering all the courtesy he could.

"The Princess wishes to meet with you at her earliest convenience," Bruce relayed.

"Is that so? Inform her I'll be there shortly," Devon responded, maintaining his composure. With that, Bruce departed.

Devon was left pondering, "What the hell?"