She spoke as if to herself, her eyes filled with boundless hope for the future, as if Eleanor’s achievents were her greatest glory and comfort.
Watching her, Murphy slowly loosened the fingers tangled in her hair before finally pulling his hand away completely.
His gaze fell upon his empty palm, then shifted to the Witch kneeling at his feet, her face suffused with a strange radiance. He remained silent for a mont.
"I’m sorry..."
Those two words were faint, almost carried away by the night wind.
But Margaret heard them.
She abruptly lowered her head, pressing her forehead against Murphy’s stomach once more. The deep violet hem of her dress spread a wider shadow across the stone slabs.
"You don’t have to..." Her voice ca out muffled and indistinct. "Master doesn’t have to say he’s sorry. Never."
"Because Maggie is Master’s slave. Everything a slave does for her master is as it should be. There’s no need for reasons, no need for explanations, and certainly no need for... Master’s apology."
Murphy looked down at her hair—neatly and beautifully styled, yet now disheveled by his hand.
"Then go see Eleanor tomorrow. Go as Duke Teris, and show so concern for her studies and her life."
Margaret was silent for a mont, then mumbled, "There’s no need... She’s doing well... With Master and Aurora looking after her... my presence would be superfluous... In my current state... it wouldn’t be appropriate."
"Since you are my slave," Murphy interrupted, his voice low but carrying an uncompromising force, "what slave disobeys her master’s words?"
He paused, his tone hardening. "I said go, so you will go."
Margaret’s body trembled slightly.
She pressed her lips together, saying nothing.
Seeing her like this, an indescribable frustration welled up inside Murphy.
He suddenly reached out again, placed his hand directly on the crown of her head, and applied a bit of pressure, forcing her head down even lower.
"Rember your place, Maggie," his voice ca from above, low and clear. "And rember my words. Tomorrow—no, the day after tomorrow—go see Eleanor. And present yourself as you should."
Forced into this position, Margaret remained motionless.
After several seconds, a muffled voice replied:
"...Yes, Master."
...
The next morning, sunlight stread through the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows of the east wing of Tayr Palace, gently spilling into the living room of the lakeside suite.
The air was filled with a fresh scent unique to the South—a mixture of floral fragrance and the sll of the lake.
Murphy sat in his wheelchair, a thin blanket covering his lap. A simple breakfast was laid out on the small round table before him.
Warm milk, perfectly toasted white bread, and an assortnt of seasonal fruits.
Aurora sat beside him, carefully spreading honey on a slice of bread. The sunlight danced on the tips of her golden hair, gilding her tranquil face with a soft halo.
Eleanor, anwhile, sat in a chair opposite them. She wore a simple, light-blue dress, her soft black hair draped over her shoulders. A notebook on the basic composition of elental runes lay open before her.
She took small sips of milk, her gaze occasionally lifting from her notes to the sparkling Mirror Lake outside, as if lost in thought.
The atmosphere at breakfast was peaceful and ordinary.
Murphy turned his head, his gaze resting on his daughter’s serene, focused profile. After a mont, he spoke slowly, his voice calm.
"Eleanor."
At the sound of her na, Eleanor looked up, her dark eyes eting her father’s.
"Tomorrow," Murphy said in an unhurried tone, "is your fifteenth birthday."
Eleanor blinked, as if only just realizing the day was so close.
She put down her notebook and sat up straight, a faint look of anticipation on her face. "Yes, Father."
Aurora handed the honey-spread bread to Murphy, then turned to her daughter, her azure eyes filled with a gentle smile. "Ti flies, doesn’t it? Our Little Eleanor is about to turn fifteen. In the South, fifteen is a very important age. It’s when you officially enter womanhood. Is there any special gift you want? Or do you have any special plans in mind for your birthday?"
Eleanor thought for a mont, then gently shook her head. "Mother, there’s nothing I particularly want. Being able to study here in peace, with you and Father by my side, is already wonderful." Her gaze grew a little distant, as if recalling sothing. She added, "For my birthday... sothing simple would be fine."
Murphy took the bread from Aurora but didn’t eat it right away. Instead, he looked at Eleanor, a gentle light flickering in his deep eyes. "How could a birthday be simple? Fifteen is a milestone worth commorating."
He paused. "This year, I will prepare a special surprise for you."
"A surprise?" Eleanor’s dark eyes widened slightly, a clear glint of curiosity reflected within them.
She was still a child, after all, and naturally held so expectation for a "surprise." "Father, what is the surprise?"
Aurora also looked at Murphy with so surprise.
But she said nothing, rely smiling as her gaze shifted between her husband and daughter, full of encouragent.
Seeing the curiosity in his daughter’s eyes, Murphy’s lips curved into a slight smile.
"It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you now," he said, deliberately keeping her in suspense. "But I can give you a little hint."
Eleanor imdiately sat up even straighter, her breathing softening as she waited with rapt attention.
Murphy’s gaze drifted toward the vast Mirror Lake outside the window. The sunlight danced on the water’s surface, shattering into thousands of golden scales.
"This surprise has to do with your talent, and also with... the ’truth of the world’ that you’ve always longed to understand more deeply."
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