Chapter 73

“…A war?”

“More precisely, signs of one.”

After the Conquering King had expanded the Empire’s territory through a relentless campaign of invasion, peace had finally come. The remaining independent nations, facing inevitable defeat, had chosen to become vassal states. Since then, the idea of war had grown distant, almost unthinkable.

But those who once resisted conquest, who dreamed of reviving the fractured kingdoms of old, had not disappeared. Their legacy lived on in the outcasts and wanderers who belonged nowhere. Wherever they went, they were shunned. Many, unable to endure the constant rejection and hardship, eventually turned to banditry.

It was difficult to imagine these scattered remnants ever becoming a real threat. Blair had thought the same.

“Do you remember when I traveled to Anatolia last year?” Odelliana asked.

“Of course. That was when you were kidnapped by those thugs and ended up bringing back Matthias,” Blair replied.

“At the time, I heard rumors. People were saying that the barbarians were forming a military force, preparing for civil war.”

“…What?”

“I didn’t take it seriously then. Still, something about it stayed with me. I asked Malena to watch them quietly. According to her, they’ve been gathering in the Köbeck region.”

“They’re probably trying to settle. Historically, the barbarians have attempted that more than once.”

“Yes, and every time it ended in failure. The Reveln royal family never allowed them to unite. Since they weren’t recognized as imperial citizens, their settlements were considered illegal occupations. That gave the crown plenty of justification to wipe them out.”

“Then this may just be another failed attempt in the making,” Blair said, brows drawn together. “Talking about war seems extreme.”

“Perhaps. But even so, I think it’s time we dispatched an investigative team.”

Blair raised an eyebrow. “An investigative team?”

“Yes. Think about the Vanagand incident. We were lucky. They destroyed the city wall and vanished without a trace. It could have gone much worse. But if a real war is coming, Anatolia won’t be the only place in danger. We’re too close to be spared. I hope I’m wrong, but we can’t afford to take that chance. We should send a team to investigate.”

A scouting party could confirm the truth. If there were any credible signs, even the faintest hint of an organized force, then the warning of war would no longer sound like paranoia. They could begin to make real preparations. And if concrete evidence surfaced, Blair would have no choice but to cooperate fully.

After a brief silence, Blair gave a slow nod.

“If what you’re saying turns out to be true, it could become a serious problem. We should confirm it while we still have time. Alright.”

***

The murmuring crowd instinctively turned in the same direction. Even those in a hurry paused for a brief moment, drawn by the same sight. Despite being covered in dust and sweat, looking every bit the beggar, Matthias still managed to capture every eye around him.

Liam dropped down beside him with a low whistle, his gaze full of envy.

“Lucky bastard.”

“What is it now?” Matthias asked without looking at him.

Before Liam could answer, Martin strolled up and took a seat on the other side, speaking in Matthias’s place.

Liam Jenut, Martin Kulag, and Matthias had all received their knighthood at the same ceremony. Liam and Martin were both nineteen, which made Matthias the youngest of the trio. Among the entire order, they were the only ones who spoke to him without formality or hesitation.

“A face like that, and all you’re doing is drinking water,” Liam muttered. “I’m dying here. I want people to stare at me like that for once.”

Liam thrived on attention. Naturally, he resented how Matthias attracted it so effortlessly wherever he went. He stuck close to him like a burr, hoping to catch some of the spotlight. Martin, as Liam’s friend and designated wrangler, ended up joining by default. As a result, the three were often seen together.

Of course, together was a loose term. In practice, it was Matthias walking ahead in silence while the other two trailed behind him.

“When is this damn construction going to end?” Liam groaned. “I can take manual labor for a day or two, but doing this and training? My whole body’s falling apart.”

“If you had the slightest bit of shame, you wouldn’t be complaining,” Martin said dryly. “You skip training every other day.”

“That is not true. I only skipped three times.”

“There were five sessions. You missed more than half. That’s not skipping, that’s disappearing.”

The two of them bickered at full volume beside Matthias, but he didn’t so much as flick his eyes toward them. He simply drank his water, as if they weren’t there at all.

This was always how it went. Liam and Martin would circle around him like restless sparrows, trading pointless chatter while Matthias remained a silent, unmoving center. No matter what they said, he never seemed to notice.

Usually, when someone was ignored as thoroughly as Matthias ignored people, they took the hint and drifted away. But whether it was sheer sociability or plain stubbornness, Liam and Martin refused to leave his side.

To be fair, they had won a few small victories along the way. Most notably, they had figured out the one topic guaranteed to provoke a response from Matthias, no matter how aloof he acted.

“These days, the Saint seems to be having a rough time,” Liam said casually.

Matthias froze, the motion of lifting his canteen halting in midair.

“So, you’ve heard too,” Liam continued. “There are guys hanging around the orphanage, sniffing around your Saint.”

The woman known as the Saint of the Orphanage had become almost as prominent a figure in Eisenwald as Matthias himself.

Despite a limp in one leg, she had worked tirelessly at the orphanage through the winter. Her compassion became the stuff of local legend, earning her nicknames like the Saint of Eisenwald and the Silver-Haired Saint. Before long, people began to comment on her beauty as well—silver hair and blue eyes, the classic features of the northern bloodlines.

Then came the revelation that she was the same young lady who had received a commendation for her role in last year’s campaign against the Prove insurgents. Public interest in her soared.

“Tell me something,” Liam said. “You’re not seriously planning to marry that Saint of yours, are you?”

“Of course I am,” Matthias replied sharply. “I gave her my commendation letter. What if someone else beats me to it? There’s already a line of idiots circling her like flies.”

Liam snorted. “Aren’t you aiming a bit high? She’s basically the lady of the castle now.”

Martin leaned in with a curious look. “Wasn’t there a rumor going around that she’s the lord’s lover?”

“That’s nonsense,” Liam said. “I heard she’s a distant relative of his.”

“Well, nobles marry their cousins all the time,” Martin pointed out. “And the way the castle staff treat her—like she already owns the place—makes you wonder if she’s been chosen as the next lady of the house.”

Irritated, Matthias hurled his canteen to the ground with a loud clatter. Liam gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Pretty face, nasty temper.”

“Shut your mouth,” Matthias snapped.

“Oh, he speaks! He actually speaks!” Liam crowed in triumph.

Getting a reaction out of Matthias was a challenge Liam took on with childlike persistence. Every time he succeeded, it sent a jolt of satisfaction through him. Riding that high, he leaned forward and kept pressing.

“Let’s be honest. If she’s related to the lord, that means she’s a Grüsewald by blood. You really think a girl like that would even look at low-ranking knights like us? You’d have to be a commander before she’d give you a second glance.”

Martin sighed and shook his head, the gesture heavy with familiarity. Here we go again, it seemed to say. He couldn’t help but wonder if Liam had lost all sense of self-preservation. Quiet men were always the most dangerous when they finally snapped, and Matthias was the definition of quiet.

“Still,” Liam continued, oblivious, “better than being the daughter of some high-ranking noble. If she were that far up the ladder, you’d need royal blood just to stand on the same steps.”

Martin noticed the shift in Matthias’s expression—the tightening jaw, the shadow behind his eyes—and acted quickly. He grabbed Liam by the collar and began pulling him away.

“Enough,” he muttered. “Time to get back to work. This isn’t something you should be mouthing off about, you idiot.”

He paused to glance back at Matthias, his tone softening.

“Sorry about that. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just… like that. Talks before he thinks. Please don’t take it personally—he was only worried about you.”

With that mumbled apology, Martin dragged the protesting Liam away. The noise faded behind them, and silence finally returned to the space around Matthias.

He stood still for a long moment, eyes fixed on the open sky above. It was clear and high, with not a cloud in sight. But no peace came from looking at it.

Liam’s words lingered like grit between his teeth—unwelcome, impossible to ignore. The thought of men loitering around her was enough to make his blood run hot, but what stung worse was the truth buried in Liam’s careless remarks.

The men were a problem he could solve. Status was another matter entirely.

Matthias tried to calculate the distance that lay between them. A noble lady. A duke’s daughter. Though she now lived simply, it would not last. One day, she would ascend to the world where she truly belonged—one of privilege, influence, and brilliance.

He had promised himself he would give her everything. Make her dreams real. Put the world in her hands if that’s what it took. That conviction remained, solid as ever. But now, a quiet doubt had taken root.

If he raised her too high—so high he could no longer reach—would she still look back at him?

The thought left a faint crack in his resolve. It was small, almost invisible. But it was there, trembling at the edges of his devotion.