April 10, 1921

The Swordswoman’s Revenge Story after Rebirth

Chapter 381: He Must Save His Daughter

Finished

Harlan felt a pang of loss upon hearing that Geoffrey was resigning from office. He had always known that Geoffrey longed for the battlefield—he was a warrior at heart, and a warrior’s soul never strayed far from the fray. But he never expected that the battle of Zloimond would be Geoffrey’s last. He was only in his forties.

Harlan silently prepared the writing tools and stood beside Geoffrey, grinding ink. Geoffrey watched him for a moment before chuckling. “You’re nowhere near as good at this as Prunella.”

“Who could compare to Lady Prunella?” Harlan replied with a small smile. “It’s hardly something I can compete with.”

Geoffrey’s expression softened with a quiet smile, his face lined with the marks of time, yet illuminated by a warmth that spoke of old memories. “No one in this world could ever compare to her.”

Harlan said nothing, only continued grinding the ink, though his mind wandered to Isolde’s predicament.

When the ink was ready, Geoffrey set his brush to paper. But as he wrote, he suddenly said, “I’m feeling a little hungry. Do you still remember how Prunella made sesame porridge?”

“I do. She taught me once.” Harlan was not particularly skilled in the kitchen, but there were always a few dishes he had mastered.

“How did she make it?”

“You roast the sesame until fragrant, then add a few peanuts and roast them as well. Grind them finely—finer the better—so the porridge turns out silky smooth. Oh, and you must add a little grain. Without grain, it won’t thicken properly.”

“Now you’ve made me crave it. Go on, make some for me.” Geoffrey grinned.

“Alright, I’ll get to it.” Harlan wiped his hands and stepped out of the room.

Outside, the snow had begun falling harder. A gust of wind hit him, biting through his clothes, and for some reason, his heart felt inexplicably heavy. This winter was unbearably cold.

By the time the sesame porridge was ready, Geoffrey had finished writing. The sealed document sat on the table.

“Come, let’s eat first,” Geoffrey said. “Then, you can take this to Peyton and have him deliver it to the court.”

“I’m not hungry. I’ll take it now.”

“No rush. Even if you’re not hungry now, you’ll get hungry later. Sit, eat with me. Keep me company for a while.”

Harlan hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, I’ll have a little.” He tucked the document into his coat, fetched another bowl, and sat down to eat with Geoffrey.

April 10, 1921

Chapter 201: He Must Save His Daughter

Finished

A wave of nostalgia washed over him. It was winter when I arrived, too. My father sold me for a thousand coins, and I entered the Langley household as your servant. From then on, I trained alongside you?

“Thirty-seven years,” Geoffrey sighed. “You’ve had it tough. Following me, you never got the good life, never advanced in rank, never even started a family. I’ve failed you.”

“Why speak like that?” Harlan frowned at Geoffrey’s mention of this life. The words unsettled him.

“Just reminiscing,” Geoffrey said, looking at him earnestly. “If one day I go before you, I’ll make sure your future is taken care of.”

Harlan set down his bowl, eyes narrowing. “What are you saying?”

Geoffrey waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. It’s just… my health worsens by the day. Who knows when my time will come?”

“You just need to take your medicine and rest. You’ll recover,” Harlan said firmly.

“Mm.” Geoffrey nodded. “When you deliver the letter, pick up some nourishing food from the market. Have the kitchen prepare it for me.”

“I will.”

Lately, Harlan had been tirelessly sourcing the best foods for Geoffrey, but he could barely keep anything down. He vomited often, sometimes even blood. Still, any food he could eat was better than nothing.

As they ate, Geoffrey let out another quiet sigh. “I wonder if she’s cold in there.”

“She must be,” Harlan murmured, his heart clenching. The Ministry of Justice’s prison is like an ice cellar. They only give hard buns and spoiled oatmeal to eat. Just thinking about it makes me sick. Can we get something to her? Even just a cup of hot water?”

A muscle twitched in Geoffrey’s brow. “Go,” he finally said. “Deliver the letter. One is for the court, the other… is for Peyton.”

Harlan took both letters and rose to leave. As he reached the door, Geoffrey suddenly called out to him.

“Harlan,”

Harlan turned. “What?”

Geoffrey looked at him steadily. “It’s cold out. Wear something warmer.”

“Alright.” Harlan nodded, stepped outside, and closed the door behind him.

Inside, Geoffrey sat still, his face calm. Yet behind that composure, his heart was breaking. Harlan had no idea that this fleeting farewell, this casual remark, might be their last.

At the courthouse, Peyton was busy. Harlan waited half an hour before he finally emerged.

“Harlan, what brings you here? Is something wrong?” Peyton asked.

April 10, 1921

Chapter 381: He Must Save His Daughter

“His resignation?” Peyton’s brows lifted. “Maybe it’s for the best. He needs to rest.”

Harlan nodded. “Then I’ll take my leave.”

Finished

Peyton acknowledged with a wave, but just as Harlan reached the door, Peyton suddenly shouted after him.

Harlan turned, startled to see Peyton rushing out, his composure completely shattered. His heart lurched.

“How long have you been gone? Is anyone watching him at home?”

“Almost an hour. There are people, but they don’t enter his room,” Harlan replied, his voice unsteady. “Why?”

“Prepare the horses!” Peyton bellowed, his face draining of color. “We ride for the Langley estate!”

Harlan’s knees nearly buckled. Peyton shoved the letter at him, his voice shaking. “This isn’t a resignation. He’s going to save his daughter.”

Harlan’s eyes flicked over the paper.

“Peyton, I leave Isolde in your care.”

Signed – Geoffrey.

His final words.

Harlan stumbled back, then bolted for the stables. His hands trembled so badly he couldn’t mount his horse. His mind reeled. He should have known. He should have seen it. Isolde was imprisoned—how could Geoffrey still smile? How could he reminisce about the past without breaking? He had sent Harlan away on purpose—to make porridge, to fetch bowls—just to keep him from watching as he wrote. He had barely touched the porridge. And in the end, he had sent Harlan to deliver the letter.

By the time Peyton and Harlan arrived at the Langley estate, Harlan burst through the doors—only to freeze. Slowly, his legs gave out beneath him. He knelt to the ground.

April 10, 1921

Chapter 382: Laughing at You