Chapter 344: Chapter 74: Enclosure Movement
"Lord Melfield, Lady Aurora, Miss Eleanor, welcome back to Taymer Palace." Annabelle’s voice was steady and respectful. Now in her fifties, her posture was still ramrod straight. Her silver-gray hair was pulled back into a meticulous bun, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes were etched by the passage of time. "Everything has been prepared according to your prior instructions."
With Aurora’s support, Murphy slowly stepped out of the carriage.
Eleanor followed behind them, her curious gaze taking in the magnificent palace that had belonged to her birth mother.
The glow of the setting sun gilded the white buildings and softened the lines on Murphy’s face.
He took a deep breath of the warm, humid southern air and gave Annabelle a slight nod. "My thanks."
"Your room is still in the east wing overlooking the lake. It has the best view and is the quietest," Annabelle reported in a low voice as she led the way. "Additionally, the Lord Duke’s study and private library, which you asked to have tidied, are ready for your perusal at any time."
Upon hearing the title "Lord Duke," Eleanor’s steps faltered almost imperceptibly. A flicker of gloom crossed the depths of her dark eyes, but she quickly regained her composure.
Aurora keenly sensed her daughter’s subtle emotional shift and gently put an arm around her shoulders.
The group passed through a magnificent foyer adorned with ornate murals and reliefs, proceeding down a wide corridor lined with dark carpets toward the palace’s east side.
The windows on both sides of the corridor were open, letting in a gentle evening breeze fragrant with the scent of the garden. The crystal chandeliers hanging in the hall swayed lightly, refracting specks of light.
Finally, they arrived at a spacious suite on the top floor of the wing.
The living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows faced the renowned Mirror Lake behind the palace. At this moment, the water’s surface was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the brilliant sunset clouds and the silhouettes of the undulating mountains on the opposite shore. The sight was breathtakingly beautiful.
"The view is still as lovely as ever," Aurora said with sincere admiration, walking to the window to gaze at the lake and mountains outside.
With an Attendant’s help, Murphy sat down in a comfortable armchair by the window. He too gazed out at the tranquil lake, his eyes distant.
Eleanor, meanwhile, found her attention drawn to a small adjoining room on the other side of the suite.
It had clearly been set up as a small study. The bookshelves against the wall were already filled with various weighty tomes, and scrolls of parchment were neatly arranged on a large desk.
"Are those from Mother? How come I’ve never seen them before?" Eleanor asked softly, her gaze fixed on the bookshelves.
"Some of them are. It’s just that some of those books weren’t suitable for you to read before you became an Official Wizard. Now you can," Murphy’s voice came from the window. "The rest are things I’ve collected over the years that I thought might be useful to you."
Eleanor turned to look at her father. She nodded emphatically. "Thank you, Father."
Once Annabelle had arranged everything, she led the Attendants away, quietly withdrawing and leaving the peaceful space to the family who had traveled so far.
Aurora walked over to Murphy and knelt down. She adjusted the light blanket covering his legs and said softly, "You must be tired. Rest for a while. I’ll have them bring dinner to the room—something light and easy to digest."
Murphy shook his head, indicating he was fine, but his gaze fell upon Eleanor, who was in the small study, curiously flipping through an old-fashioned notebook.
"Eleanor," he called.
Eleanor looked up.
"There’s no rush," Murphy said gently. "You’ll have plenty of time later. For today, just rest and get familiar with your surroundings. Starting tomorrow, you can use that study freely. But remember, the path of Cultivation requires a balance of tension and release."
"I understand, Father." Eleanor carefully placed the notebook back in its spot and returned to the living room.
Night fell quietly. Specks of light appeared on the far shore of Mirror Lake, echoing the first stars emerging in the sky.
An Attendant brought a delicate dinner. The dishes featured seasonal vegetables from the South, fresh fish, and poultry, all with a light yet savory flavor, clearly prepared with Murphy’s physical condition in mind.
The family of three had their dinner at a small round table by the window.
There was little conversation during the meal, but the atmosphere was quiet and warm.
The occasional evening breeze carried the fragrance of night-blooming flowers from the distant garden, mingling with the warm aroma of the food and putting one at ease.
After dinner, Eleanor didn’t dive back into the small study. Instead, she sat with her parents in the living room for a while, chatting about the sights from their journey and old memories of the Taymer Palace gardens.
It wasn’t until the night had deepened that Aurora urged Eleanor to go to her own room to rest.
"Good night, Father. Good night, Mother." Eleanor bid them a dutiful farewell and left the suite.
Only Murphy and Aurora remained in the room.
Aurora didn’t go to wash up right away. Instead, she went behind Murphy and gently massaged his tense shoulders and neck with her fingers.
"It’s nice here, isn’t it?" Her voice was as soft as a sigh. "It’s warmer than Monte Castle, and quieter too. Let’s just stay here for a good long while."
Murphy relaxed his body, feeling the gentle pressure from his wife’s fingertips as he slowly closed his eyes.
"Mm," he responded in a low voice.
Outside the window, Mirror Lake was as black as ink, reflecting a gradually rising moon. The moon’s cool light spilled over the white palace by the shore and crept silently into the warm suite, blanketing the two of them as they kept each other company.
Time passed in silence.
Late at night, all was still and silent.
Mirror Lake lay beneath a jet-black sky, as smooth as a giant slab of Obsidian. Only its edges shimmered with the faint, fragmented light from the palace’s scattered lamps.
The silhouette of the distant mountains melted into the night, leaving only a deeper, more profound darkness.
Murphy opened his eyes in the darkness.
Beside him, Aurora’s breathing was even and deep; she was fast asleep.
He turned over with extreme slowness, shifting his weight so carefully he made almost no sound.
His eyes, still sharp in the night, silently gazed at Aurora’s sleeping profile for a moment. Then, he lifted the thin blanket, propped himself up with his hands on the edge of the bed, and sat up soundlessly, moving into the wheelchair that was always kept beside the bed.
The wheelchair’s wheels rolled over the thick carpet without a sound.
Murphy maneuvered the wheelchair across the dim living room to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that led to the small balcony.
The doors weren’t latched. He blew a soft breath, and one of the doors swung open on its own. The damp, cool air of a southern spring night immediately rushed in, carrying the damp scent of the lake water.
He rolled out onto the balcony, and the glass door swung partially shut on its own behind him.
Below the balcony was a meticulously tended garden, now submerged in deep darkness. Only the marker stones at the edge of the stone path gave off an extremely faint, fluorescent glow.
A gentle ramp connected the balcony to the garden path below.
The wheelchair glided silently down the ramp and melted into the garden’s shadows.
He chose a winding path that was farther from the main walkway and closer to the lakeshore.
The wheels whispered over the fine gravel, making a rustling sound that was almost masked by the night wind.
Tall trees and dense shrubs swallowed his figure. Only the occasional sliver of sparse moonlight leaking through the gaps in the branches briefly illuminated his serene face.
The closer he got to the lake, the heavier the moisture in the air became, and the cooler it grew.
At last, the path ended at a small, stone-paved platform, with a few steps leading down into the lake water.
At the edge of the platform, the branches of an ancient weeping willow hung down like a curtain, swaying gently in the night breeze.
Murphy stopped the wheelchair in the shadow of the willow tree, facing the open expanse of the lake.
He didn’t light a lamp, merely staring quietly into the boundless darkness before him.
The lights on the opposite shore had long since been extinguished. The world seemed to be reduced to pure blackness and silence.
Time trickled by to the sound of chirping insects and lapping waves, and the moon seemed to have shifted its position slightly.
About ten minutes passed, perhaps longer.
Murphy didn’t look back. He simply faced the empty lakeside platform and spoke in a calm tone:
"You’re here."
