Even the worldly nobles couldn’t help but let out low gasps of amazement.

Margaret stood quietly beside her daughter, her profile looking exceptionally soft under the starlight’s glow.

The entire starry sky demonstration lasted for about half an hour.

When the last halo of light faded like a receding tide, the Moonlight Stone Lamps embedded in the walls of the Observatory rekindled their soft, silvery-white glow. The guests remained lost in the moment, immersed in the lingering afterglow of awe and tranquility.

Eleanor finally blinked her stinging eyes, then turned and threw herself into Margaret’s arms. She buried her face deep into her mother’s embrace, her voice muffled but filled with immense satisfaction. "Thank you, Mother... It was so beautiful... It was like we really flew among the stars..."

Margaret gently stroked her hair.

Just then, Margaret seemed to remember something. She gently eased Eleanor out of her embrace and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

Eleanor paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up, and she nodded vigorously.

She let go of her mother and turned. Though a little shy, she walked with a determined stride toward Murphy, who had been standing silently in the shadows at the platform’s edge.

Murphy watched the small figure walk toward him.

Eleanor stopped in front of him and looked up. She held out a small cloth pouch with a deep blue velvet drawstring, cupping it in both hands.

"Count O’Connor, thank you for the Astrolabe you gave me. It’s just as wonderful as the stars Mother showed me. This... this is my gift to you in return. Leia and I gathered them in the garden—they are seeds from the very first Snowball Flowers to bloom this year, collected while still covered in morning dew."

She paused before adding, "Mother says the Snowball Flowers from the Northern Territory are the most resilient and pure. I hope you like them."

Murphy was taken aback for a moment. His gaze moved from the small pouch to Eleanor’s expectant face, and then past her to Margaret, who was watching from a distance with a smile.

He reached out and took the small pouch, still warm from the child’s hands. His movement was faintly hesitant, but he quickly recovered, closing his hand around the pouch.

"Thank you, Miss Eleanor," he said, his voice calm. "This is a very precious gift."

Seeing him accept the gift, Eleanor’s face broke into a bright smile. As if she had completed some momentous task, she let out a breath of relief, gave a small curtsy, and then joyfully ran back to her mother.

Margaret casually wrapped an arm around her daughter, her gaze meeting Murphy’s.

A gentle smile touched her lips as she gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

As the guests began to bid their final farewells to Margaret and Eleanor and prepared to leave, Margaret moved almost silently to Murphy’s side.

Her lips barely moved as a soft whisper reached his ears:

"The seeds... I had Eleanor prepare them," she said, her tone flat, as if discussing something utterly mundane. "This is a gift from Aurora’s ’master’."

With that said, she had already moved past Murphy. Taking Eleanor’s hand again, she said gently, "Come, dear, we should see our guests off."

Eleanor nodded obediently and left with Margaret.

Murphy remained where he was, his gaze sweeping over Margaret’s elegant back before falling to the item in his hand. Finally, he silently tucked it away inside his coat.

...

The night was now deep. Under the moonlight, Taymer Palace resembled a great white beast fallen into a deep slumber.

The splendor of the Observatory had long since faded and the guests were gone. Most of the palace was submerged in silent darkness, save for a few lamps of the Night Watchers flickering faintly deep within the corridors.

Murphy hadn’t gone to the lavish guest quarters prepared for him.

He stood on a terrace with a wide, open view, gazing at the hazy silhouette of the distant garden under the moonlight, seemingly waiting for something.

Before long, the sound of exceptionally light footsteps approached from behind. Murphy didn’t turn around.

Margaret’s figure emerged silently from the shadows of a pillar.

"Is Eleanor asleep?" Murphy’s voice, low and deep like the night wind, broke the silence.

"She is. Sleeping soundly, holding the Astrolabe you gave her." Margaret came to his side, her gaze also fixed on the darkened garden. "Leia is standing guard outside."

A short silence passed, the moonlight streaming between them.

"Count Laura’s proposal," Murphy said, changing the subject to the day’s earlier interlude. "What do you make of it?"

"The Royal Family’s loyal hound has always had a keen nose," Margaret said, her voice flat but laced with barely perceptible sarcasm. "Alonso has just dropped a thunderbolt on the Iron Ridge Mountain Range, and already he’s rushing to deliver kindling to the furnaces of the Northern Lands. It’s less about his confidence in the Monte Territory’s craftsmanship... and more about proactively seeking more sturdy axles for the Royal Family’s war chariot, while also securing a more stable retreat for himself."

She turned her head, the moonlight tracing the delicate line of her jaw.

"We can discuss cooperation, but we must hold the upper hand. The mines and waterways of the South are convenient, but the core of the Monte Territory’s metallurgy and the Northern Territory’s trade routes are our irreplaceable foundation. Don’t let him think we’re helpless without ore from the South. He needs your technology and the North’s production to solidify his value to the Royal Family and prepare for the changes that may come. His need is far more urgent than your need for a few of his new mines."

Murphy nodded slightly, clearly agreeing with her judgment. "I’ll handle the details."

The topic lapsed into silence again.

They both knew Count Laura’s offer of cooperation was merely a small pawn on a much grander board. The real storm was brewing from the direction of the departed Marquis from the Tower of Secret Silver.

"It will take time for our intelligence channels to report back," Margaret said, her voice lowering, growing more somber. "But regardless, the Iron Ridge Mountain Range must be monitored closely."