Leaving

Fran City, Count's Castle, Governor's Office.

The heavy oak desk was unusually clean, with almost no documents piled up for processing.

However, Earl Rochefort was not relieved by this.

He was slumped in his high-backed chair, a pipe long since extinguished in his hand, his gaze unfocused on the gray sky outside the window, a deep gloom hanging over his brow.

These days, he outwardly maintained the dignity of the Governor-General of the Northern Territory and handled necessary official business, but inwardly he felt as if he were being slowly roasted over a low flame.

What worries him most is his daughter Charlotte's condition.

Since the day he told Charlotte the devastating news of the royal marriage, she didn't cry, didn't become hysterical, and didn't even show much sadness.

She simply accepted the fact with unusual calm and then continued with her daily life.

Reading, taking walks, and occasionally chatting with Aunt Martha, it was as if nothing had happened.

This excessive "normality" felt like a heavy boulder pressing on the Count's heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

He would rather see his daughter cry her heart out and release her emotions than have her bury all her pain and despair deep inside and bear it all alone.

"Sigh..." The Count sighed silently, brought the cold pipe to his lips, and unconsciously took a puff, only tasting a bitter ash flavor.

Knock, knock, knock.

The knocking on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," the Count said in a deep voice, composed himself.

The clerk pushed open the door and entered, holding two documents in his hands.

He keenly sensed the somber atmosphere in the office, carefully walked forward, and placed the document on the table.

"My lord, there are two documents that require your review. The first is the final plan and budget for the construction of the standard Official road from Fran City to Carnford. All relevant personnel, materials, and equipment have been allocated, and construction is expected to begin tomorrow."

The Count nodded, his gaze sweeping over the document cover, and said calmly, "Hmm, I understand. Proceed as planned."

"The second document," the clerk lowered his voice slightly, "Is a preliminary plan regarding...the reception, accommodation, and escort arrangements for Her Highness Princess Louise's retinue upon their arrival in the Northern Territory. Please review it."

Upon hearing the words "Your Her Highness the Princess," the Count visibly paused. He remained silent for a few seconds before waving his hand, his voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of weariness. "Put it here. I'll look at it later."

"Yes, sir." The clerk dared not say more, bowed respectfully, and quietly withdrew, gently closing the door behind him.

Although he didn't know the specific reason, he could clearly sense that the Count had been in a very bad mood lately, which seemed to be related to some news coming from Carnford.

A suffocating silence returned to the office. The Count stared at the proposal for the Princess's procession, finding it utterly irritating, with no desire to even open it.

However, not long after, there was another knock on the door.

The Count frowned, a hint of impatience flashing across his face.

Wasn't the official business already finished? What else is there? He raised his voice, somewhat impatiently, "Come in!"

The door was gently pushed open, but this time it wasn't the clerk or any subordinate who walked in, but a slender figure draped in a dark, thick velvet cloak.

Upon seeing the person's face, the Count abruptly stood up from his chair, his face filled with surprise and worry. "Charlotte? What are you doing here? You... your health..."

His gaze involuntarily fell on his daughter's noticeably protruding belly, which could no longer be completely concealed even though she was wearing a loose cloak.

Charlotte's face was somewhat pale, but her expression remained unusually calm.

She gently closed the door behind her, walked to the chair opposite the desk, and sat down, her movements somewhat slow and clumsy.

She removed the hood of her cloak, revealing her slender yet still beautiful face.

"Dad," she began, her voice soft but carrying an undeniable determination, "I have something I want to tell you."

The Count quickly put down his pipe and even subconsciously pushed the silver box containing the tobacco on the table further away, fearing that the smoke might affect his pregnant daughter.

He sat back in his chair, leaning slightly forward, and asked with concern, "What is it? Tell me, Dad is listening."

Charlotte raised her eyes, her azure eyes as calm as a frozen lake, so still it was unsettling.

She looked at her father and said, word by word, "Dad, I want to go back. I want to go home and... secretly give birth to this child."

The Count was stunned. "Go back? You mean... you want to go back to Hewenham Territory?"

Hewenham Territory is the hereditary fiefdom of the Rochefort Family, located in a relatively inland region of the kingdom. It is much more peaceful and prosperous than the Northern Territory and is where Charlotte was born and raised.

"Yes." Charlotte nodded, her hand unconsciously resting on her lower abdomen, a hint of maternal tenderness in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by determination. "In Fran City, too many people know me; sooner or later, I won't be able to keep it a secret."

"Back in Hewenham Territory, let's find a secluded manor near our old house. It'll be easier to stay out of the way. I want to give birth to the child there quietly."

The Count looked at his daughter, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

He understood Charlotte's concerns. In Fran City, as the daughter of Count, her every move was under scrutiny, and it was indeed difficult to hide her pregnancy for long.

Returning to Herwenham, our ancestral home, would be much more convenient and safer to arrange things, given our family's connections and influence there.

He pondered for a moment, then nodded, his voice softening considerably. "Very well... After Herwenham is our own territory. Arranging a quiet place for you there is much safer than staying in Fran City. I'll write to your mother now and have her return from the Royal Capital immediately so she can take care of you."

Charlotte's mother, the Count's first wife, has spent most of her time in the Royal Capital these past few years accompanying her son, who has been taken hostage by the Count.

Charlotte gave a soft "hmm" and said nothing more, simply staring silently at the table, as if lost in thought.

A brief silence fell over the office.

The Count felt a pang of guilt and heartache as he looked at his daughter, who was so submissive and swallowed all her suffering alone.

He hesitated for a long time, but finally couldn't help speaking, his voice tinged with a hint of caution:

"Charlotte, Karl... you... you're not going to see him again? He should be summoned to Fran City soon to discuss the wedding arrangements."

Charlotte trembled almost imperceptibly upon hearing Karl's name.

She slowly raised her head to look at her father, her lips curving into a faint, almost ethereal smile, while her eyes quickly filled with an overwhelming sadness.

"No, Dad," she shook her head, her voice as soft as a sigh, "He...he's about to marry the Princess. It's not appropriate to meet now. I don't want him to be troubled. He...he'll definitely notice me..."

Her hand touched her abdomen again, her voice choked for a moment, but she quickly composed herself. "... He can't hide it. If the royal family finds out, it will arouse suspicion and cause him trouble."

Count listened to his daughter's words, it felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart tightly, causing him so much pain that he could hardly breathe.

At this point, the daughter's first concern was still Karl's safety and situation!

She would rather leave for a distant place and silently endure everything than add even the slightest trouble or risk to the man who was about to become someone else's husband!

Endless regret surged into the Count's heart like a tidal wave.

He suddenly stood up, walked around the desk, went to his daughter, knelt down, and tightly held her cold hands. His eyes instantly reddened.

"Charlotte, I'm sorry, it's all my fault!" His voice was hoarse, filled with painful self-reproach. "If... if I hadn't hesitated when Karl came to Marriage Proposal, if I hadn't considered the benefits of those damned Political Marriage, and had just agreed to his proposal, allowing you to get engaged and even married sooner, maybe... maybe the royal family wouldn't have... wouldn't have..."

He couldn't continue; overwhelming guilt nearly drowned him.

It was he who personally ruined his daughter's happiness.

Charlotte looked at her father's pained expression, gently squeezed his hand, shook her head, and said in an unexpectedly calm tone, yet with a sense of world-weariness. "Dad, it's not your fault, really, and it's not Karl's fault either. If anyone's to blame, it's that our fate wasn't meant to be. Perhaps this is destiny."

She pulled her hand away, gripped the chair armrest, and stood up with some difficulty. "Dad, prepare a convoy for me. I want to leave as soon as possible."

The Count looked up at his daughter's pale yet resolute face, knowing that everything was beyond repair.

He nodded heavily and stood up. "Very well, I'll make the arrangements right away. The most reliable men, the most comfortable carriages—I will ensure your safe return to Herwenham."

Charlotte nodded, put her cloak back on, pulled the hood up to cover most of her face, leaving only her pointed chin visible.

She took one last look at her father and said softly, "I'm going back."

Then, she turned around, her steps somewhat unsteady yet exceptionally firm, and walked out of the office step by step.

The Count stood there, watching his daughter's departing figure for a long time, until the door closed gently, shutting out his view.

He slumped back into his chair, covered his face with his hands, and let out a long-suppressed sigh filled with pain and regret.

Outside the window, the sky over the Northern Territory remained overcast.