"Overly coincidental? What do you an by that?"
Judging by old Marquis Bertheim’s expression, there was clearly sothing I didn’t know. While the old man sank into thought, Göring served herb tea on his behalf. It was lukewarm, but the aroma was lovely.
"You know that I handled the prisoner negotiations, don’t you?"
"Viktor told about what happened back then."
"Among the survivors was a fellow nad Jakob."
The old man laid out the strange news he had received. Two weeks ago, Jakob—one of the 13 survivors, who lived in Hissen, a southern village in Rosenheim—had sent him a letter.
The letter said Jakob had been keeping in touch through regular correspondence with comrades who lived in Neudenburg and Denmach, both within Rosenheim. Then one day, the letters stopped coming.
So Jakob had inquired through rchants and learned that his comrades had all died. There were quite a few suspicious circumstances surrounding their deaths, but the estate manager hadn’t paid any mind to the deaths of commoners.
The manager had simply written them off as having been killed by bandits. But Jakob had realized that soone was watching him, and in his fear, he had sent a letter asking old Marquis Bertheim for help.
"At first, I thought he was reaching out to for so trivial favor on the strength of our acquaintance from the prisoner negotiations, but the more I thought it over, the stranger the contents seed. So I asked the Administrative Minister to look into the survivors’ personal information."
The Administrative Minister? I’d never have guessed that crusty old man would do anyone a favor. But shockingly, the Administrative Minister was the old Marquis’s closest friend. I was still in awe of his social reach.
If it were , I’d want nothing to do with that kind of person.
"With your information network, Marquis, surely you can get information on royal desne villages?"
"You overestimate this old man. Maybe in my pri, but what power does a retired old man have? I get by on the small pleasure of catching wind of interesting news within Breisburg."
I wished I could benefit from those small pleasures myself.
I was gathering street-level information through Bodo, but apart from learning that Treppen, who had seized the slums by reaping the spoils, was being pushed back by a new organization that had absorbed the remnants of Schlange and Rafel, there was nothing of real substance. Quality over quantity, as always.
In any case, according to the information the Administrative Minister provided, 7 of the 13 survivors had died. Aside from 2 who had died long ago, the other 5 had been killed relatively recently. Sothing already reeked.
And the remaining 6 were currently of unknown whereabouts. They might have fled sowhere, or perhaps been devoured by wolves in the woods. Disappearances were common in this dieval era, so tracking them down wouldn’t be easy.
Among those 6 missing were Jakob, the very man who had sent the letter, and Viktor. The old man had taken note of how frequently these "coincidental" deaths were occurring. So he had mobilized his n.
They had picked up frequent traces of transactions in Eisten under the Falkenheim na, which led them to Viktor, who had been living in seclusion between Eisten and Breisburg. The trail must have co from Simon and his wife’s trips to market.
So the old man, in order to protect Viktor—who possessed a wealth of information—from potential assassins, had arranged for to seek him out under the pretext of a recomndation. Viktor had been my father’s friend and brother in arms, after all.
In hindsight, that judgnt had been correct. There had indeed been bandits hunting the Falkenheim family. The sudden surge in their numbers seed deeply suspicious in retrospect. This was no ordinary matter.
"So you introduced him to under the guise of a recomndation?"
"Because I knew his unique history would catch your interest."
"Marquis, with all due respect, you used ."
I had simply gone there thinking Viktor was a survivor who had witnessed my father’s final monts and a potential recruit for a commander’s position, but I’d been pulled into sothing more complicated than I’d bargained for.
When I made my displeasure plainly visible, the old man laughed gently and tried to soothe .
"Now calm yourself. It made more sense for you, who command a fighting force, to step in than for this old man to act personally. What could a powerless old man hope to accomplish out there?"
"Then ask honestly next ti. I despise being used like this."
"My apologies. I was thinking too much of my own ends. I sincerely beg your pardon."
The old man’s frank apology cooled my anger sowhat. He had given Rosengarden and helped in many ways, and I thought of him almost as a grandfather, so my grumbling stopped there.
But I still ant to collect what was owed.
"I will be charging you for the trouble. Brace yourself."
"I cannot say whether I can give you what you want, but I shall gladly bear it."
I’d decide later what to demand from him.
I had gotten interested in this suspicious affair.
Going by the circumstances, the most likely suspect was Grand Duke Karlus. But why kill the survivors now, at this point in ti? I told the old man about what Viktor had witnessed that night.
When the na of the current commander of the Grand Duke’s Guard ca up, the old man’s expression turned grave.
"Ho. Falkenheim ntioned that na? Are you certain?"
"I was shocked when I first heard it too."
Viktor had been disillusioned by the corruption of the Crusader Order’s ideals, and he had personally witnessed the sacrifice of the lord he respected. His distrust must have run deep. So he hadn’t even confided in old Marquis Bertheim.
Viktor must have beco acquainted with the old man through the prisoner negotiations, but the Marquis had been a confidant of the late King, and Viktor couldn’t bring himself to trust him. That explained why Viktor had reacted with such bewildernt when I said the old man had recomnded I co find him. If I had been in Viktor’s position, I’d have thought it was completely out of nowhere too.
The old man still seed dubious.
"Commander of the Grand Duke’s Guard. Curious. But Baron Constance was a prince of the realm. No matter how distant relations had grown, he was not the kind of man who would ekly die at the Altringens’ command. There are many suspicious things about this."
"This is just my guess, but it sounds like they’re trying to destroy the evidence."
The Lord of Rosenheim’s sacrifice was generally regarded as a noble one, and his devotion was credited with saving the royal family. But what if the truth ca out that it had been coerced? The royal family using a vassal lord with a fief as a shield could cause quite a stir.
It would be seen as a violation of the feudal contract.
I thought that was the most plausible explanation that could be inferred from the circumstances.
But after hearing out, the old man responded skeptically.
"If that were the reason, they would not have gone so far as to pay ransoms to bring those prisoners ho. This old man personally negotiated and brought them back, but I received no instructions whatsoever from the late King or His Grace. This is not the simple matter you make it out to be."
The old man fell into deep thought.
The tea Göring had brought had grown cold.
It had been lukewarm to begin with.
The old man clasped his hands behind his back and stood by the window.
"For a conspiracy to unfold without this old man knowing is proof that things have been far more ticulously arranged than I thought. This has beco very interesting indeed. It reminds of the old days."
The old man’s cynical tone gave an unfamiliar feeling. He didn’t seem like the easygoing old grandfather I knew. He looked more like a scher who dealt in dark intrigue. So this was his true face.
"Where should I start investigating? Finding the missing survivors seems important too."
"You will do nothing. Affairs of the shadows must be handled in the shadows. Don’t set foot in this world. Focus on the work that’s properly yours."
The old man drew a firm line at my offer of help. The atmosphere had completely shifted, enough to make flinch. I could feel solemnity in the way he looked at .
It was the face of a grandfather scolding his grandson.
After thinking it over, I took it as a warning not to wade into dangerous waters. And it made sense. I had no real grounds to involve myself deeply in a royal conspiracy. I wasn’t a party to it, after all.
In truth, getting involved out of re curiosity carried too much risk.
The one thing that worried was Viktor’s safety.
"I have Viktor with . Wouldn’t they try to make a move on him?"
"What would they gain by going after a man under your protection, with the War Minister’s family backing you, a fief of your own, and a knightly order to boot? You aren’t directly tied to the conspiracy. Just devote yourself to your work with the order. Suspicion will fade naturally."
I needed to finish forming my order and play the part of a lord in Feuzen as well. I couldn’t waste ti digging into a conspiracy that wasn’t even my mission and had little to do with .
In that sense, the old man had given very sound advice.
It was best to leave matters like this to the specialists and stay out of it.
You really couldn’t underestimate experience.
But conspiracy aside, I couldn’t just let the bastards who had ambushed Viktor’s family go free. Berten’s hideout was still out there. Wiping them out would be a small accomplishnt, and perfect for live combat training.
If I frad it as suppressing bandits to restore order, even the Finance Minister couldn’t shoot it down. I rather wanted to see his sour expression as he stamped the approval.
"If you intend to wipe out those bandits, work together with the Judicial Departnt."
"With the Judicial Departnt? Don’t bandits fall within my purview to handle independently?"
"Normally, yes. But you may run into matters connected to the conspiracy. Wouldn’t bringing the Judicial Departnt along add another layer of protection? Make use of them."
That hadn’t occurred to . If I brought the Judicial Departnt along, no one could easily challenge what I did. On top of that, the Judicial Minister was well-disposed toward . Co to think of it, he had ntioned having a favor to ask of .
I’d forgotten in the rush of recent days.
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