Her Majestic Battle Cry

Chapter 1229

A delicate curtain separated the bedroom from the inner hall. As Carissa parted the beaded curtain, the soft sound of pearls clinking together echoed in the quiet room,

People said a small room helped preserve energy for the elderly, the room shouldn’t be too spacious, as it could cause the life force to scatter and harm their health.

Thus, the room was modest in size, with a carved cherrywood bed positioned to the east and a low couch to the south. A small wardrobe stood nearby, though Carissa had already noticed another wardrobe in the inner hall, suggesting that this one had been specially added.

She glanced around the room, noting the fine, elegant furnishings everything was of the highest quality.

“Lord Gerald,” Carissa called softly. When she thought about it, there was no personal grudge between them. Their paths had merely crossed at the wrong time.

Gerald opened his eyes slowly, his dull, murky gaze sweeping the room. Only when he confirmed that it was just her did he sigh wearily

He was frail, his breathing shallow–indeed, he seemed to be at the very end of his strength.

On the table beside him was a bowl of medicine and a bowl of gruel that was still warm. It seemed someone had tried to feed him, but he had refused.

He lifted a trembling hand and pointed weakly at the gruel.

looked over at the bowl. “You want some gruel?

for several days, and

on her face. This wasn’t what she had expected–why was Gerald eating gruel now? She thought for a moment, deciding that perhaps

energy up.

wait and

herbs. After finishing nearly half a bowl, he shook his head

would likely follow soon after. For

herbs, Carissa could tell from Gerald’s breathing that he had improved slightly. But he did not speak right

Quinton family had naturally only

a chair and sat down beside his bed, just as she had at

he began to speak in a weak

you said I hadn’t fought for

slowly, then inhaled with great effort It was as though it took all his strength to

to tell you that some things, no matter how hard you fight

remained silent, understanding that he

he went on, “What you’re doing now… It won’t succeed, either. The success you see now is but an illusion. In the end, in

a murky tear slid down from the corner of his eye. “Years ago, King Sigmund forbade it because…because he

hand clutched the blanket, the veins standing out like twisted roots, as he fought to speak his words. One cannot defy the king’s command! If you can’t fight, then… then