Gospel of Blood

Chapter 182: --------------

The Death of the Old Duke

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Borde City, Duke’s Mansion.

"Cough, cough, cough... cough, cough, cough..."

The violent coughing echoed intermittently as the old Duke of Borde, Andre, lay in bed. He was a shadow of his former self, a far cry from the vibrant figure he had been a year ago.

A lit incense in the brazier gently emitted pale blue smoke, mixing the aromas of spices and medicines.

In the large bedroom, the windows were tightly shut, creating a cold and empty atmosphere. Only a long-serving maid remained to attend to the ailing Duke.

"Duke, it’s time for your medicine."

The maid said respectfully, holding a tray.

The old Duke opened his cloudy eyes and glanced at the tray, which held a silver vessel filled with black powder and a goblet of water.

"What... what is this?"

He asked hoarsely, his weak and slow voice sounding like it came from a rickety old carriage.

"This is a secret elixir that Prince Philip found in ancient Eastern texts. It’s made from the powder of a thousand-year-old mummy and Coria ointment, mixed with holy water from the church. It should help with your condition."

The maid replied respectfully.

"A mummy? Cough, cough, cough..."

The old Duke's voice rose slightly, and his coughing became more severe.

"Duke..."

The maid placed the tray by the bed and quickly stepped forward to help the Duke catch his breath.

The Duke opened his mouth, taking a few difficult breaths, and weakly said.

"Help... help me up."

The maid supported the Duke's arm, which was as frail as a withered branch, and with difficulty helped him sit up.

Through the mercury mirror at the bedside, the Duke's cloudy eyes reflected his own gaunt appearance and disheveled gray hair, his expression somewhat gloomy.

He trembled as he opened his mouth, and the maid carefully mixed the black powder with the holy water, feeding it to him bit by bit.

The "elixir" with a spicy aroma entered his throat, causing the Duke to cough violently again until he managed to swallow it with a few sips of holy water.

As the elixir settled in his stomach, the Duke soon felt a warm strength gradually spreading through his body, revitalizing his increasingly decayed form.

With a bit of strength restored, the Duke's sluggish thoughts began to slowly turn.

"You... you just said, who... who brought the prescription?"

"Duke, it was His Highness Philip."

The maid replied respectfully.

"Phil... Philip? He's... already here?"

The Duke was taken aback.

"Yes, Duke, His Highness Philip arrived last night. He is waiting outside with Lady Eleanor."

The maid said.

The Duke fell silent.

After a long pause, he sighed and said in a hoarse voice.

"Let them... come in."

The bedroom door creaked open, sounding like decaying wood, as Prince Philip and Eleanor entered the room hand in hand.

"Father Andre..."

Prince Philip and his wife approached the bed and bowed respectfully to the old Duke.

The Duke stared blankly at his daughter, whom he had not seen for many years. She seemed to have lost weight and the sparkle in her eyes was gone. Life in the royal family must have brought her immense pressure.

The Duke felt a pang of guilt in his heart.

Perhaps... he should not have arranged for his daughter to marry into the Crescent Royal Family. If not for that marriage, he could have found a son-in-law for her to continue the family lineage. If not for that marriage, his daughter could have stayed by his side, and he wouldn’t be facing his final moments alone.

But alas, there are no "ifs" in this world.

When he discovered he had an illegitimate son, he had already forsaken his daughter. Perhaps this was the Lord's punishment for him. His daughter became a pawn to solidify his rule, and now, he had lost both her and the heir he hoped for.

The centuries-old Borde family might end with him.

Thinking back to the tall figure who stormed out a year ago, a deep sadness flickered in the Duke's eyes.

He couldn't quite describe his feelings now.

Despair?

Sadness?

No...

When the reality of his family's extinction hit him, he found himself surprisingly calm. Maybe he was too tired to think anymore, or maybe he was simply worn out.

Reflecting on his life, he remembered becoming Duke at fifteen during turbulent times, following the King into battle, defeating enemies in numerous wars. He had participated in countless battles and slain many foes.

Soldiers of the Falling Star Kingdom trembled at his name, and the people of the Crescent Kingdom cheered his army. He was known as the greatest Duke Borde had seen in a thousand years, Lion Andre.

He had his moments of glory, commanding immense power and respect, with even the King seeking his counsel.

Yet, in his quest to gain more influence through war, he depleted the family’s centuries-old resources. By empowering the nobility for support during his campaigns, he gradually lost control over his territory.

The once mighty lion had aged.

And as he fell from power, not a single loyal noble stood by him. He had been outmaneuvered even by a mere girl.

The Duke understood that his tight grip on power in recent years had contributed to his isolation.

But what else could he have done?

He didn’t want to leave his descendants a shaky legacy. Just like when the King inherited the Crescent throne, he wanted stability for his successors.

Maybe he had been wrong from the start.

Perhaps he shouldn't have spent most of his life on the battlefield. Maybe he should have paid more attention to his lands and family. He might have treated the Castel family differently—the promising count and countess, and their seemingly naive but profoundly astute daughter.

A year was enough for the Duke to uncover some truths and gain some clarity. But it was too late.

The Duke trembled as he lifted his head and looked at his only daughter.

"Eleanor."

He called out weakly, extending his hand. Eleanor quickly grasped it.

"Father..."

She responded, her touch bringing him a sense of peace.

In that moment, the Duke suddenly felt that nothing else mattered.

So be it.

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The Duchy of Borde, the Castell family—it was all insignificant now. He was tired and needed rest.

As for his daughter... even if she wouldn't become a powerful Duchess, with the royal family as her support, at least she could live a happy life.

He had owed his daughter all her life. Now, perhaps, it was time to repay that debt.

With this realization, the old Duke took a deep breath and, with great effort, tried to sit up.

"Duke..."

The maid hurried forward to support him, but he gently waved her away.

The old Duke, once a mighty force, now struggled to even sit up on the bed. He looked directly into the eyes of the third prince, Philip, and in that moment, his once-cloudy eyes regained their sharpness.

"Prince Philip..."

The old Duke clasped the prince's hands, using all his remaining strength.

"I know your ambition. I know your desire to control Borde!"

"Everything I have... I can give to you. Everything of Borde... can be yours!"

Prince Philip was taken aback. He hadn't expected such words from the aging Duke, who was known to be stubborn and ruthless, devoted entirely to his family.

"But I have one condition..."

The old Duke's tone changed. He stared intensely into the prince's eyes, as if trying to peer into his soul.

"I... I want you to treat Eleanor well. I want you... to ensure her happiness!"

Upon hearing this, Eleanor trembled slightly, and a flicker passed through her blue-gray eyes.

Prince Philip lowered his eyelids, and when he looked up again, he wore a radiant smile.

"Of course, esteemed Andre."

He said.

"Eleanor is my beloved wife. I will make her happy."

Hearing the prince's promise, the old Duke finally felt a bit relieved.

"Cough, cough... remember what you said."

He coughed violently. Having settled his concerns, the Duke felt his strength ebb away. His body slumped, and his eyes, filled with a mix of guilt and affection, fell on his daughter.

But as his gaze passed over Eleanor's sleeve, he noticed the countless scars hidden in the shadows beneath.

The Duke's aura changed instantly.

Suddenly, a surge of strength returned. He struggled to reach out and pull back Eleanor's sleeve, revealing her arm, which should have been smooth and white, covered in bruises and hideous scars.

The Duke's expression changed instantly.

A decayed yet astonishing aura erupted from him, and his once dormant extraordinary power reawakened.

Furiously, the Duke grabbed the prince's collar and roared.

"Philip! What... is this?!"

Prince Philip remained calm. He slowly pried the Duke's withered fingers from his clothes and stood up, looking down at him with a sigh.

"Duke, if only you had said those words a little earlier."

The Duke, filled with rage, glared at him. But suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and spewed a mouthful of black-red blood.

In an instant, he felt his strength draining rapidly, with burning pain spreading from his stomach throughout his body. He looked desperately at the maid standing by, only to see her move respectfully to the prince's side, her eyes cold.

"You...!"

The prince stepped forward, blocking his view, and leaned in with a smile.

"Duke, I never liked charity, nor being forced into transactions, and I despise being someone else's bargaining chip."

"I want to obtain what I desire with my own hands, by any means necessary."

"Borde Duchy, Castell County, I will take them myself."

"And..."

He lowered his voice, speaking into the Duke's ear.

"You shouldn't have shown a killing intent in front of me."

The Duke, seeing the prince's devilish smile, felt a surge of anger.

He glared at the prince with a murderous look, as if wishing to tear him apart...

But soon, he started laughing uncontrollably.

"Cough, cough... Haha... Borde... and... Castell... Haha..."

The Duke laughed wildly, more and more frenzied, and increasingly pitying.

Prince Philip frowned slightly.

"Duke, what’s so funny?"

But the Duke didn't answer. He continued to laugh, his eyes losing focus. A tear slid down his wrinkled cheek, and his hands fell limp.

Even in his last breath, his blue-gray eyes remained wide open.

"Dead, huh..."

Prince Philip frowned, feeling a sense of futility.

Yet, the Duke's eerie laughter left him inexplicably uneasy.

He heard soft sobbing beside him and turned to his wife.

His expression grew cold.

"Did I allow you to cry?"

Eleanor trembled, lowering her head, her voice shaking.

"S-sorry..."

"Good girl."

The prince patted her head in satisfaction. Then he ordered the maid.

"Take care of this. The old Duke has passed. From now on, Borde belongs to Eleanor and me."

The maid trembled slightly and bowed in reverence.

Holding Eleanor's hand, the prince left the room.

In the grand hall of the Duke's mansion, he naturally took the main seat. Soon, a soldier rushed in, kneeling and presenting a parchment.

"Sir, urgent news from the north! The young Countess of Castell has returned to the territory!"

Prince Philip's brow furrowed as he took the parchment, reading quickly. His expression darkened.

"Useless, all of them! They couldn't even stop a little girl!"

"With such incompetence, how do they expect to reclaim the Falling Star Kingdom?"

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