Trevor was already switching gears as he left the blue dining room, the easy warmth of lunch shuttering behind the calm, sharp focus of the Grand Duke. His long strides carried him through the west corridor and down the back staircase to a windowless room that Windstone referred to, with typical understatement, as "the small conference room." It was in fact the security command hub for the entire estate.
Dan Smith was waiting inside, standing at the head of the table. The head of security was a blocky man in his forties, ex-military, his dark suit cut short. Two monitors glowed on the wall behind him, each showing different parts of the manor grounds.
"Sir." Dan inclined his head as Trevor entered. "We've isolated the problem."
Trevor closed the door behind him. The cedar scent that always clung to him seemed to sharpen, filling the room like a low chord. "Show me."
