Free Web NovelChapter 387: Chapter 85: The Morning Star’s Resurgence, a New Chapter Begins
"But how could a man who plotted to get rid of his father and brothers to finally seize the title truly be kept down by a woman? Even if she was his own mother?" Terence shook his head, the wrinkles on his face deepening. "It doesn’t make sense. None of it. It was as if... as if he became a different person overnight."
Eleanor listened quietly.
Of course, she knew why.
Because the "Sylvan" who came later was no longer the original Sylvan.
That was her father, Murphy.
But she merely went along with what Terence was saying, asking in a faintly curious tone, "Hearing you put it that way, it does sound strange. But perhaps he went through something that changed his perspective? Or... maybe his life in the South showed him a different way to govern?"
Terence scoffed. "Ideas can change, but a man’s nature is hard to alter. A wolf doesn’t suddenly become a sheep. Unless..."
He blinked his cloudy eyes, his voice dropping as if he were muttering to himself, "Unless that wolf... was never the original one to begin with."
After saying this, he seemed to find his own speculation too outlandish and sighed. "Ah, it’s all ancient history now. Sylvan has been dead for a long time, and I doubt anyone remembers or even cares about what happened back then. It’s just... seeing you today, Miss, I was inexplicably reminded of Cecilia and all those messy old affairs. When a man gets old, he tends to ramble on about these things."
Eleanor looked at the old man before her, lost in memories and melancholy, and the little bit of impatience she had felt completely vanished.
She fell silent for a moment before saying softly, "Thank you for telling me this, Knight Terence. If it’s not too much trouble... I’d like to hear more."
Upon hearing this, a faint light sparked once more in Terence’s dim eyes. He gestured for a servant to push his wheelchair a little closer.
"Of course, of course..." he murmured, his voice slow and drawn-out. "Those events... I’ll tell you more..."
He spoke intermittently of many things—the churning undercurrents within the Duval Clan, the strange atmosphere in the territory just before the Old Baron’s death, and the delicate relationship between the two heirs.
He spoke of the hasty and suspicious circumstances surrounding Sylvan’s dispatch to the South to recuperate, and of the convenient timing of several "accidents" that occurred later.
He mentioned the power struggle between the Former Lady Baron and Sylvan, and the friction between Viscount Hans and the Duval Territory.
All these stories, decades of history, unfolded over the course of a single afternoon.
The sun gradually dipped westward, stretching their shadows long.
"...So you see," Terence finally concluded, "that Sylvan... he was by no means as simple as he appeared. But later on..."
He shook his head. "What happened later... that’s even harder to understand."
He suddenly looked up, his cloudy gaze carefully studying Eleanor’s serene profile. His voice held a trance-like quality. "You... you’re so much like her."
Eleanor tilted her head slightly. "Cecilia?"
From the long narrative, Eleanor had already pieced together Cecilia’s identity.
She was the niece of Aurora’s mother, a cousin from Eleanor’s own generation, who had mysteriously disappeared at the age of twelve.
"Yes, Cecilia." Terence’s tone softened. "You don’t really look much like her, and your hair color is completely different... but your aura, the feeling you give off just by standing there, is very much like hers. That sense of... being in a crowd, yet seeming to be separated from it all by an invisible veil, a feeling of slight detachment from your surroundings."
’Aura?’
A thought stirred in Eleanor’s mind.
’Perhaps it’s the gift of Spiritual Power.’
’If my cousin Cecilia possessed the same special gift for Spiritual Power, then her so-called ’disappearance’ was likely not so simple.’
However, Eleanor didn’t intend to delve any deeper into the matter.
She had already obtained precious information about her father’s past. That was enough.
Seeing that Eleanor wasn’t pursuing the matter of Cecilia, Terence also fell silent for a moment.
The distribution of aid in the square was drawing to a close. The crowd gradually dispersed, leaving only a few deacons to take stock of the remaining supplies.
Twilight deepened. A cold wind swept by, and Terence pulled the woolen blanket tighter around himself.
He suddenly raised his head, his dim eyes looking straight at Eleanor, and asked an unexpected question:
"Miss, in your opinion... a man as ruthless and cunning as Sylvan, do you really think he died when he was attacked while fleeing for his life?"
Terence already knew the identity of the young woman before him.
The rumored illegitimate daughter of Thunder Sword Melfield and Duke Temeris, who had deep ties to the Duval Territory—now the Monte Territory.
Eleanor met his gaze, her dark eyes looking exceptionally profound in the twilight.
She replied calmly, "Dead or alive, what difference does it make now?"
Terence froze for a moment, then a bitter smile touched his lips.
He nodded slowly, his voice so faint it was nearly carried away by the wind. "You’re right... Whatever the truth may be, it has nothing to do with an old man like me with one foot in the grave."
He gestured for the servant to wheel him away.
The wheelchair creaked as it slowly turned around.
Just before leaving, he glanced back at Eleanor one last time. His lips moved as if he wanted to say more, but in the end, it was only an inaudible sigh.
Eleanor stood where she was, watching the creaking wheelchair gradually fade into the twilight.
The wind rustled the hem of her black dress, carrying the chill of early autumn.
She thought she understood the unspoken intention behind Terence’s final question.
The old Knight wasn’t truly fixated on whether Sylvan lived or died; he wanted to confirm something else through her.
’Was Cecilia’s disappearance not so simple, either?’
’Was it also connected to those dark events of the past?’
