Yet all she talked about was William's plan and how he was capable. The letter wasn't a lamentation or a collection of last words for her family to mourn over; it was a testament of faith in the strategy of a boy who, just hours ago, was nothing more than a porter in their eyes.
"This…"
And after he read the rest of the message, the old man's hands trembled faintly. It wasn't something normal.
For a man of his cultivation, a man who had stood unshaken against the shifting tides of politics and war for decades, such a physical sign of agitation was profound.
It instantly attracted the attention of everyone here, drawing their eyes away from the forest and toward the crinkled yellow paper in his grip.
"Uncle… What did she say?" Gran gave his brother, Callom, a sharp, warning glance to silence him before he took the lead in questioning the Patriarch. Gran knew that Callom's emotional volatility would only cloud the situation.
