Upon hearing Pittman's words, Amber instinctively glanced at Gawain, who said proactively, "I can leave—if you don't want others to hear this."
"No, I don't mind," Amber shook her head, "You have a sharp mind and always provide unexpected insights. I want you here, and you can also look at this notebook."
Gawain silently glanced at Amber, without refusing, he just nodded slightly.
The fountain wasn't suitable for unearthing these hidden memories, so the three left the overly bustling courtyard and entered a lounge on the first floor of the Silver Castle. Amber solemnly placed the notebook on the table, carefully opening its worn and fragile cover in front of Gawain and Pittman.
There were no patterns or crests on the pages, none of the usual decorations found in most handwritten books of this era's nobility—just a plain, simple line on the yellowed paper:
"To my daughter—hoping when you see this, you have grown up happy and safe."
