Chapter 80

“What on earth is this supposed to mean…?”

Adolf muttered aloud, his voice roughened from the strain of concentration. For the past hour, he had done nothing but read and reread the same letter. At last, he lowered the sheet of paper, set it aside with a faint rustle, and rubbed his eyes hard with the heel of his hand, as though he could scrape away the disbelief lodged there. 

For a fleeting moment he wondered if he had overworked himself to the point of hallucination, if fatigue had blurred his sight and made the letters dance into nonsense. Yet no—the lines on the page remained unyielding, their meaning stubbornly unchanged.

“Tell me,” he asked at last, his tone still tinged with disbelief. “Have you ever heard of the name… Rosan Cobalt?”

His steward, who had been waiting patiently at his side, pressed his brow and searched his memory. After a pause, recognition flickered in his eyes.

“The name is strangely familiar… Ah! Yes, I recall now. Rosan Cobalt was once the butler of the House of Grüsewald.”

“Butler?” Adolf repeated, his brows knitting in puzzlement.

“Yes, my lord,” the steward answered with a respectful bow. “You were but a boy at the time, which is why you likely would not remember. He served the Duke’s household faithfully—until he vanished, quite without warning. The disappearance caused a tremendous uproar.”

“Why would he disappear?” Adolf pressed, his voice sharpening.

“That, no one knows,” the steward replied with a slow shake of the head. “One day he was simply gone. The man was reputed to be most competent at his post, and then… nothing. If I remember correctly, the entire Cobalt family disappeared at once, and for some time the affair was a subject of much speculation. But forgive me for asking, my lord—why do you inquire about Rosan Cobalt now?”

Adolf drew in a steadying breath. His answer came in a low voice.

“Blair has asked me to find him.”

The steward blinked, his composure faltering for the first time. “Master Blair? He has made this request? That is… curious indeed. If memory serves, that incident occurred when the young lords were no more than five years of age. Remarkable that he should even remember such a man.”

Why, Blair? Why would you suddenly seek Rosan Cobalt, after all these years?

Adolf sighed heavily, dragging his hand down his weary face. He knew full well that meddling in the hidden affairs of another house rarely brought any good. Yet he also knew Blair well enough to recognize that his friend would not make such a request lightly. To refuse was unthinkable.

“And… how is young master Blair faring these days?” the steward ventured cautiously.

“Busier than he has ever been,” Adolf said with a dry laugh. “Anyone could tell simply by looking at Eisenwald’s state of affairs. They are raking in wealth with the extermination of the beasts.”

“Strange,” the steward mused. “Only last year there were whispers that the house was doomed, but it seems the omens of ruin were in truth harbingers of fortune.”

Adolf’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “No—they turned ruin into fortune.”

Indeed, the beasts were lucrative to slay. Yet the multiplication of their kind spelled catastrophe for the common folk, bringing destruction to villages and tearing apart the fragile balance of the land. Few houses possessed the military strength to withstand the sudden surge of such creatures. Each season of proliferation brought near disaster.

“It is impressive, truly,” the steward admitted. “Mercenary companies fight where they can, but their efforts are scattered and small. Eisenwald’s forces alone could never have sufficed to stem the tide.”

“They had help,” Adolf said quietly, his gaze distant. “A monster of a man.”

The boy had never been ordinary. A raw gem Adolf had once longed to possess, who now was being honed into something brilliant, something the world would soon be forced to acknowledge.

“Once in a millennium such a talent appears,” Adolf murmured, almost reverently. “He is still young, still denied the proper stage upon which to shine… but when the time comes, he will be the hero who inherits the name of Solitude.”

The memory rose unbidden: the shiver of awe when Adolf first beheld Matthias. The lengths to which he had gone to secure him—even delving into the Grüsewald family’s darkest, most carefully concealed disgrace. And alongside that memory, the face of his friend’s sister surfaced in his mind, as vivid and unsettling as ever.

He smiled thinly. “Having already dirtied my hands in Grüsewald’s accursed family matters, I see little reason to refuse this latest request. Make inquiries about Rosan Cobalt. I want news—quickly.”

The middle-aged steward bowed deeply. “I shall see to it without delay, my lord.”

***

“Another carriage from the knights has arrived at the gates today,” came the report.

“Bodies?” Odelliana asked, her voice clipped.

“No, my lady. Once again, the carcasses of beasts.”

“Ah…” She exhaled, her face tightening. “They did say the numbers had swelled. To think so many slain creatures would be brought here—Eisenwald must have been overrun.”

Nearly two months had passed since Matthias had left for the campaign against the beasts.

In his absence, Odelliana had filled her days with ceaseless labor. Swordplay, archery, horsemanship, and the burdens of household management—all had fallen to her shoulders, leaving her no idle hour. Yet whenever she saw the procession of carts trundling across Eisenwald’s gates, bearing trophies of slaughter, her heart eased. His exploits were being spoken of already, reaching even here.

“Sir Matthias’s deeds are remarkable,” said Marco with barely concealed admiration. “The knights say they have suffered almost no casualties.”

“While the mercenaries, I suppose, have been the ones dying in droves,” Odelliana remarked coldly.

“Indeed, my lady. But mercenaries cannot compare to him in stature or skill. In any case, the surrounding region has nearly been secured. If fortune holds, Sir Matthias may return as soon as next week.”

He had promised her he would return swiftly—and it seemed he intended to keep that promise. The acclaim surrounding his name was proof enough that he had driven himself mercilessly, cutting down the campaign’s duration by force of will and steel. Odelliana knew his body was hardy, forged like iron, but still she worried. Too much strain, even for him, could bring ruin. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

And yet, she could not deny that under his leadership, the vanguard had wrought wonders. From her seat as lady of the castle, she could only be pleased.

“The auctions are thriving,” she observed aloud. “With the treasury flush, we shall not want for supplies this winter.”

The carcasses were dismantled, every piece of hide and horn and sinew laid upon the auction block. Word spread like wildfire, and wealthy merchants and nobles sent their agents swarming to Eisenwald, eager to claim a share. Gold poured in, and the city’s market blossomed with sudden vigor.

With the coffers replenished, the allocation of resources became far easier. Unlike the previous year, this winter they could prepare amply, without fear of deprivation.

Marco’s eyes had glistened as he surveyed the accounts. In all his long years serving within Eisenwald’s stone walls, never had he seen such energy coursing through the domain. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous.

The city had changed beyond recognition in a single year. Repairs to the walls were nearing completion. New settlers arrived in growing numbers, lured by tales of prosperity. Whispers spread of the young lord’s skill and wisdom, and with them came those who sought to live under his rule.

A city once strangled by tyranny, teetering at the brink of ruin, had in the blink of an eye been remade into a land where people could thrive.

But where fortune blooms, misfortune lurks. Blair came to Odelliana bearing grave tidings.

“You were right,” he said, his expression shadowed.

“What do you mean?” she asked quietly.

“Our investigators have confirmed it. The barbarian tribes scattered across the kingdom have gathered in Anatolia. They are organizing, forming an army. We sent urgent word to the lord of Anatolia, and it seems suppression will soon begin—but their weapons, their numbers… they far exceed what we expected.”

So the scouts had returned, bearing the scent of war. Blair’s face was heavy with dread, yet Odelliana felt a strange calm settle over her heart. At last, she thought, the time had come to set her plans in motion.

“They have already raised their camp at Köbeck,” Blair continued grimly. “And—most troubling of all—they possess siege engines capable of breaching great walls. There must be powers behind them, supplying such arms. Otherwise… no, it beggars belief.”

Odelliana’s gaze sharpened. As expected. He sees through to the hand behind the curtain.

“Have they asked for reinforcements from us?” she inquired.

Blair shook his head. “No. Anatolia seems confident their forces alone will suffice.”

“Confident?” she echoed with a bitter laugh. “The barbarians are no longer wielding farm tools. They are a fully armed host now. If they hold the highlands, they will bleed our forces dry with the terrain on their side. To call that ‘sufficient’ is folly.”

The war may begin far sooner than planned, she thought grimly.

“This cannot be dismissed lightly,” Blair said. “If Anatolia’s troops clash with the barbarians entrenched at Köbeck, the conflict may spiral into civil war.”

“You are right,” Odelliana replied. “Reports already speak of skirmishes. The barbarians resist with stubborn ferocity. This may not end as a mere rebellion. You must inform His Majesty the King at once.”

“I wonder if he will even act,” Blair muttered bitterly. “The barbarians have caused trouble for years, and nothing has been done. Even you, sister, know that I doubted your warnings.”

“Still,” Odelliana urged softly, “you must tell him. And in the meantime, we must prepare here.”

The season of beasts had filled their coffers. The timing was perfect.

“Few know of this intelligence,” she pressed. “The faster we act, the greater our gain. Funds abound. We must seize this chance.”

Blair hesitated. “Do you truly believe war will come?”

“Investment is made upon possibility, not certainty,” Odelliana said firmly. “Wait until war breaks, and regret will be useless. Disaster for the realm it may be, but for the few who are ready, it can mean opportunity.”

Blair’s eyes widened. “Odelliana! War is not opportunity—it is catastrophe, a scourge!”

“Yes,” she said with chilling calm. “A scourge no one can escape. Which is why we must be ready. Your duty is to shield this land from the ruin that approaches.”

Yes, war was calamity. But even in calamity, profit flowed to those swift enough to seize it.

“You would hoard arms, food, medicines in advance,” Blair said slowly, aghast. “To profit from lives lost, from fields soaked in blood? You would make a market of war?”

“This is about Eisenwald’s survival,” Odelliana countered sharply. “Anatolia is our neighbor. Should the barbarians conquer it, they will not stop. The powers that support them will march as well. If the conflict drags on, Eisenwald too will become a battlefield. Trade will collapse. The city will starve. Better we prepare now than perish later.”

In the past life she remembered, Matthias’s valor had brought swift victory against the barbarian host. But the path was diverging. He was still but a knight of low rank—would he even be given the chance to turn the tide this time?

No, the war ahead would be longer, bloodier, more uncertain. And Eisenwald could not assume itself safe.

Blair fell silent, his thoughts a storm. Odelliana knew her brother—knew he would wrestle with the choice, agonize over it. Yet to her surprise, his deliberation was brief.

He looked at her at last and said, voice steady with resolve, “Very well, Odelliana. We shall do as you say.”