Sylas sat alone in the courtyard, his figure motionless, mirroring the stillness of the bamboo behind him.
He hid his heart away, so it couldn't be hurt by Isolde again.
But Celeste's words had given him a sliver of hope.
Should he go?
The child was due in just over two months.
Sylas bent over, burying his face in his hands.
He rubbed his face, occasionally smoothing the hair from his forehead.
If he missed this chance, there would never be another opportunity to leave.
But the thought of not seeing his child filled him with immense sorrow.
That was his flesh and blood, bought with half his life.
If his daughter grew up with Isolde, she would surely turn into a spoiled brat.
Yet, as he thought this, he felt helpless and lost.
Even if he stayed, would Isolde let him discipline the child?
Just in these past few days, he'd noticed Isolde could actually get jealous of the child.
This was beyond his comprehension.
A mother, jealous of her own child?
Shouldn't you love the child?
So he deduced that even after the birth, Isolde would use the child to threaten him daily.
"Hu..."
He rubbed his cheeks, looking sullenly at the ground.
Maybe...
Maybe just forget it.
He didn't want to struggle anymore.
Even if Isolde used the child against him, he would accept it.
If he went to the Heartlands, not only would it be an unfamiliar place, but with his temperament, he would surely miss the child terribly.
Sylas couldn't help but laugh at himself mockingly.
Now I'm thinking wishfully.
Celeste just arrived in Northspire.
How could she possibly spirit me away right under Isolde's nose?
If it fails again, I'll just have my eyes gouged and tongue removed once more.
Having reasoned it through, he felt an unprecedented mix of disappointment and relief.
There was a time when he dreamed of achieving great deeds and earning respect as a man.
For that, he particularly looked down on those who relied on their looks for gain.
But now, the reason he could survive was precisely because of his appearance.
He sat there quietly, lost in thought.
Just then, the courtyard gate opened.
Two palace maids supported Isolde as she slowly walked in.
Sylas immediately rose and stepped forward, taking Isolde's arm.
The movement was fluid, almost a conditioned reflex.
Normally, he would also put on a smiling face.
But today, he hadn't adjusted in time.
By the time he prepared to smile, Isolde had already noticed his low spirits.
"Now what's wrong?" she said lazily. "Moping around all day. Do you feel I'm mistreating you?"
"Just feeling a bit melancholic with autumn here," Sylas said, not rushing to deny it, but offering an excuse.
He knew the more he argued, the harsher Isolde's methods would be.
Better to be frank early on.
Isolde said delightedly, "Oh, been a prisoner for a year now. Quite the ordeal."
She spotted a wicker chair in the courtyard and sat down.
Sylas poured tea for her.
Watching his bent form, Isolde actually fell into thought herself.
When he handed her the teacup, Isolde suddenly said, "In three days, I will negotiate with Gwendolyn of Stonewold at Amberfields.
There's not much to discuss, really.
They just want trade reopened.
Anyway, I found you.
Opening the ports again is fine.
Let the Stonewold people lower their guard.
In two years, the ships won't be carrying goods, but the elite troops of Aethelred."
"Oh..."
Sylas was uninterested.
You sisters are quite something.
When I wanted to be your strategist, you had to turn me into a slave.
Now that I've sunk into degradation and become a slave, you keep telling me all this irrelevant stuff.
Do you just enjoy corrupting the innocent and redeeming the fallen?
How perverse is that? Truly perverse.
Isolde smiled. "You'll accompany me, alright?
It'll help you relax.
Of course, the most important thing is for you to drink on my behalf."
"I'm not much of a drinker either..." Sylas had a very low alcohol tolerance.
How could he possibly drink for Isolde?
Isolde slyly pointed to her belly.
"Little one, your father wants to feed you wine." Sylas said helplessly, "Fine, I'll go. I'll go..."
He really had no temper left for Isolde.
Isolde giggled, but then her jealousy flared up again.
"Sylas, you can't just be nice to your daughter! You have to put me first! Understand?"
"Understood... understood..." Sylas was somewhat distracted.
He suddenly remembered what Celeste had said.
If he could get to Amberfields, there was a chance to escape...
He hadn't tried to strive for it, but the opportunity was now laid before him.
Should he really give it up?
You know what they say, if heaven grants an opportunity and you don't take it, you will suffer the consequences.
A war raged in Sylas's mind.
Just then, he noticed a patch of white on the wall.
Looking closer, it was actually Luna, the moon cat.
He hadn't expected the cat to appear here.
Isolde also spotted the white cat.
"Is this your cat?" she asked, puzzled.
Sylas wanted to hold the cat, but was afraid it might affect the fetus.
"Yes, but it should be in Celestia Ridge. I didn't expect it to be here."
"Oh, probably brought over by the guards during the raid.
I didn't pay attention.
Since it's your cat, you can keep it,"
Isolde was quite magnanimous about these trivial matters.
As long as Sylas behaved, she didn't mind giving him small favors.
Sylas beckoned to Luna.
The white cat was too lazy to move.
It curled up on the wall, sunbathing.
It wasn't particularly clingy, but it didn't want to leave Sylas either.
This aloof yet attached dynamic was quite comfortable.
Isolde couldn't help but laugh.
"Look, even your cat ignores you."
Sylas felt a bit dejected.
He tried calling a few times, but Luna remained aloof.
He could only sigh with a wry smile and sit beside Isolde.
Isolde naturally wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her head against his chest, consoling him, "It's alright, it's alright.
If it ignores you, I'll pay attention to you.
Just wait a bit longer.
In two months, I'll pester you every day, alright?"
Sylas: "..."
Seeing his awkward expression, Isolde patted him discontentedly.
"Look at you.
As long as you wear the Servant's Chain, nothing will happen.
Don't foolishly try to be clever again."
"...Okay."
He had learned to resign himself to his fate.
In the afternoon, he gave Luna a bath.
Luna didn't fuss in the tub, letting him scrub its fur.
Sylas washed it meticulously.
But his mind was elsewhere.
Two days to prepare.
If he wanted to leave, he had to start planning now.
He couldn't trust Celeste.
That little sister and her elder sister were two peas in a pod.
But that didn't mean he couldn't use her.
The only person he could potentially rely on was the Chancellor Gwendolyn of Stonewold, whom he had never met.
Back in Lyonesse, Sylas had seen correspondence between Jade and Gwendolyn.
At the time, the two Chancellors were still discussing how to form a horizontal alliance to attack Aethelred.
Little did they expect the alliance would be ineffective, completely thwarted by Marshal Victoria.
Gwendolyn's handwriting was neat and dignified.
Seeing the writing was like meeting the person.
She must be a meticulous and precise individual.