"They've all left?" Willem asked, his voice echoing in the now-empty hall.
"Yes, they just departed," a servant confirmed.
"So… they're gone." Willem sighed deeply. In just half a day, he felt as if he had aged ten years. Suddenly, the face of his son, Walter, flashed through his mind.
"I should have listened to him."
A surge of regret washed over Willem. He summoned a knight who had been overseeing Walter's protection.
"Where is Walter now?"
"He just returned from seeing off Sir Sylas."
"What? Why on earth would he do that?"
The knight hesitated, then spoke carefully. "He said he intended to apologize personally for any trouble you may have caused, my lord."
"…Hah." Willem let out a dry, bitter laugh. He had always seen his son as a pitiful fool—immature and short-sighted.
"It turns out I was the one who couldn't see what was right in front of me."
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