Chapter 30

The Meyer Family

Wilhelm Meyer.

He was the younger brother of Bernhard, the butler of Dithmarschen, the father of the attendant Fritz, and the head of the Count Meyer family. He was also a man descended from Hohenlohe, the adopted son of Hilde.

At a glance, Fritz could be seen in his appearance. If the boy were to reach forty, with brown hair streaked with gray and wrinkles forming on his forehead and around his mouth, he would look just like him.

He trembled as he looked at Ulrich.

“Lord Ulrich…”

Even his voice shook. His already light brown skin, mixed with the lamplight, had taken on a reddish hue, and now, with blood rushing to his face from excitement, it had turned deeply red.

His breathing was ragged as well. He must have returned in haste. He had likely gone to the hunting grounds without much concern, only to hear that his fourth son had returned. And that there was also a young man beside him—someone said to be Dithmarschen’s adopted son.

At that moment, Wilhelm must have realized it instinctively. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for him to return in such urgency. After all, he was someone who had even skipped attending the royal wedding of Osnabrück to go hunting.

The name Ulrich used outwardly—Armin, the adopted son of the Duke of Dithmarschen—held no value. Even King Richard of Osnabrück was an adopted son of the duke. Would Wilhelm, who had not even attended the wedding, change his attitude just because another adopted son had appeared?

Wilhelm had noticed. When his son, who served his lord, returned together with an adopted son whose name he had never once heard before, he realized that the adopted son was Ulrich.

“I heard you had gone hunting, yet you returned early.”

“Yes… I thought Lord Ulrich had come.”

Ulrich did not turn around. Looking down at Hohenlohe’s statue, he welcomed Hohenlohe’s direct descendant with his back.

“I always thought you would come someday. And yet this foolish and inadequate one failed to prepare and receive you properly. I am sorry, Lord Ulrich.”

After watching him for a moment, Wilhelm prostrated himself. He knelt on the stone floor of the underground crypt and pressed his forehead against it. A man said to be the most powerful in the land lowered himself without the slightest hesitation.

“Stand up. Your actions are excessive.”

“No. How could anything offered to you ever be excessive?”

A long exhale echoed through the underground crypt. It was a small sound, but in the stillness, it resonated softly. And that sigh came from Ulrich. He turned his body and approached Wilhelm.

“Wilhelm, have I not always told you? Excess is worse than deficiency. That is why Bernhard, not you, remained by my side. Have you already forgotten?”

Wilhelm’s shoulders trembled.

“I am ashamed.”

“If you truly feel that way, stand up and look at me properly.”

Ulrich watched as Wilhelm hesitantly rose, then embraced him.

“It’s good to see that you are well.”

“I am not as I once was. Each passing day has already begun to frighten me.”

“That cannot be helped. As long as one lives, it is something one must face.”

“But it is not so for you.”

Wilhelm smiled, saying nothing about him had changed.

“You have changed your name. Are you still trying to hide yourself?”

“I always have. How many times have I revealed myself to anyone other than you all? I used the name Ulrich for too long, and it became too well known. You know I do not want that.”

“How could I not know? You were the one who raised me.”

Afterward, Wilhelm exchanged introductions with Roberta and paid his respects at Hohenlohe’s grave. According to Fritz, he came every single day to honor his ancestors, yet even so, he remained solemn.

“Lord Ulrich, has my child ever disappointed you?”

A stern gaze turned toward Fritz. The boy flinched. Ulrich placed a hand on the boy’s head, gently patting it as he smiled softly.

“No. Your child is fulfilling his role well.”

“That is a relief. In front of me, he only ever shows his shortcomings… Even when I sent him to Dithmarschen, I worried greatly. When I heard he had returned, at first I feared he had been cast out.”

“You are his father, yet your eye is worse than mine.”

“Who could possibly be better than you, Lord Ulrich?”

Wilhelm shook his head with a smile.

“But why have you left your territory? I heard it was to attend the wedding of Richard’s daughter, but is that true?”

“That is the intention.”

It was not the reaction of someone who fully believed the answer. His gaze shifted slightly.

“It seems there is something I have failed to realize.”

“I am not certain. However, it is something I must confirm myself.”

“There is no other reason?”

Wilhelm asked if that was truly all.

“……”

Ulrich did not answer.

The conversation broke off, and silence pressed down upon the underground chamber. Wilhelm glanced once more at his son. Fritz flinched again, but unlike before, he even avoided eye contact. It was unmistakably the reaction of someone hiding something.

The boy’s father suddenly seemed to realize something. His eyes widened as he stared at his son. His fingertips trembled slightly. Then he carefully spoke.

“You are planning to leave.”

He asked in a tone filled with certainty.

“Are you going to abandon your current name?”

“I have not decided. I may return.”

“So you do not deny it.”

The question was sharp, but his expression softened.

“Why? Is it because I have disappointed you?”

Ulrich shook his head.

“Then is it because I have shown you an unworthy side of myself? Because I did not follow your will? Because I refused the throne of Osnabrück that you granted me—has that angered you?”

“You know that is not the case.”

“Then why… are you trying to leave so suddenly?”

“I told you the reason long ago. You have already heard it.”

A calm gaze met an agitated one.

“But—” Wilhelm began, only to close his mouth again. Soon, his head dropped helplessly.

His expression clearly revealed that he could not accept it, yet he asked no further.

“…This will be the last time I serve you.”

Ulrich said that wasn’t necessarily the case, but Wilhelm, as if he hadn’t heard, asked how long he would stay. And Ulrich, as always, answered, “A day.”

Wilhelm immediately left the mausoleum with the three of them.

Then he ordered the servants to prepare a banquet. For the sake of just three guests, he had several livestock slaughtered, summoned musicians and jesters, and even brought out wine that had never been opened except on the most special occasions.

The sudden command flustered the butler and servants, but when the count seated Ulrich at the place of honor and personally attended to him, it ceased to be a problem.

“My lord Count, Lord Armin should be attended by us…”

The butler carefully tried to dissuade him.

At that, the count grew angry. He firmly declared that he himself would serve the young man named Armin. The butler’s face stiffened as he stepped back.

It was a natural reaction. Everyone in the banquet hall except Wilhelm, Fritz, and Roberta did not know Armin’s true identity. Who would dare think that this young man was Duke Ulrich?

No one would imagine that an old man who had lived for over three hundred years stood before them with the appearance of someone in his twenties. It was said that whenever the Meyer family visited Dithmarschen, only blood relatives accompanied them. Very few people outside Dithmarschen had ever heard his name or seen his face.

Thus, the reactions of the butler and attendants were filled with confusion and doubt.

“The count himself is serving him? A foster son whose name we’ve never even heard? A man who even ignores His Highness Richard, who is also an adopted son?”

It was a mystery that would remain unsolved unless it was revealed that Armin was Ulrich.

‘He doesn’t care about dignity at all.’

Watching the scene, Roberta clicked her tongue inwardly.

‘He’s hiding his name, but he’s practically announcing that he’s someone extraordinary.’

She raised her glass and observed Ulrich.

As always, he was composed. He accepted the drink Wilhelm offered, ate the food Wilhelm served, and watched the performance of the jesters Wilhelm had summoned. From time to time, he responded to Wilhelm and smiled gently.

To an outsider, he looked like a refined man simply enjoying a banquet. But Roberta felt that Ulrich was not particularly pleased with such treatment. If he had wanted this kind of attention or position, he would have ascended the throne long ago.

“It’s fortunate that only Father is here right now.”

Beside her, Fritz spoke while cutting his meat.

“Fortunate? What do you mean?”

“My older brothers and sister are the same. When the whole family gathers… it’s like Father becomes four people.”

Roberta, who had turned her gaze back to Wilhelm, imagined him multiplied fourfold and let out a low groan.

“That sounds overwhelming.”

“Yes… very. Extremely overwhelming.”

“They don’t realize it themselves,” the boy muttered under his breath.

“In the past, whenever the weather warmed, he would go to visit Lord Ulrich. There were even times he stayed for an entire year. It was almost… like he lived as an attendant. Then Father had a huge argument with Lord Bernhard, and eventually Lord Ulrich barred him from entering.”

“…Barred him? You mean he wasn’t allowed into the territory?”

That kind old man?

Roberta scoffed in disbelief.

“I think it was too much.”

“That the lord barred him?”

“No. The way Father treats—no, treats Lord Armin.”

Fritz tried to put a piece of meat in his mouth but sighed deeply and set it down.

“He said it earlier, didn’t he? That excess is worse than deficiency. Isn’t what Father is showing right now exactly that?”

“It probably is,” Roberta replied.

She had witnessed something similar during her time as an apprentice priest.

A poor son used the wages he earned from the temple to care for his ailing mother. He gave up even his own portion of food to feed her. At first, the mother did not realize it because she was blind, but when she eventually found out, she became furious.

When she told Bishop Alonso about it, he said this:

— A heart that seeks to care for someone is not always a good thing. One must also consider the feelings of the one receiving it. If a child starves to feed his mother, or a mother starves to feed her child, will the other truly feel happy?

Of course, the Meyers were wealthy. They could hold banquets like this countless times without suffering any loss. Even so, Roberta thought Ulrich would not like it.

Because Wilhelm’s attitude toward Ulrich resembled someone who served their parents or raised their children without thinking of themselves at all. The count showed blind devotion and loyalty—but would Ulrich truly welcome that?

She glanced at Fritz’s expression.

The boy’s discomfort showed faintly on his face. Like her, he must have felt that his father’s behavior was excessive. Even the son who followed Ulrich so faithfully saw his father that way.

“Earlier… Lord Armin said it, didn’t he? That it was Lord Bernhard, not Father, who remained by his side. Father was sent to Lord Ulrich a few years earlier than Lord Bernhard.”

The reason was obvious—to become a butler, just like Bernhard and Fritz. And just as obvious, Wilhelm had not become a butler, but a count.

“Father thinks Lord Bernhard used some kind of trick, but that can’t be true. If anything, if Lord Bernhard hadn’t given up the title, someone else in the clan would have been chosen. Then he wouldn’t have been able to face our ancestor.”

“That puts you in a difficult position too, doesn’t it?”

“Ah… yes…”

Fritz smiled awkwardly.

“It’s fine. I’ve seen it my whole life. What matters is what comes next.”

Roberta understood what he meant and nodded.

‘I thought the reason he left his territory wasn’t just because of the wedding.’

Not long after returning from the Ice Peninsula, Ulrich had said he would soon leave—that he would not remain as Ulrich of Dithmarschen forever. At the time, she had felt that day was not far off.

And now that day had come, and she was accompanying him on what might be his final journey. Perhaps she was overthinking it. Hadn’t Ulrich said he hadn’t decided yet?

“Right. What comes next is the problem.”

There were countless unresolved questions about that strange lord, but she set them aside and looked at Wilhelm. The head of the family, now in his forties, was attending to a young man who looked far younger than himself.

There was no dignity in his demeanor. Like a child seeking attention from an adult, he spoke incessantly, refilled the cup before it could empty, and remained by his side as if ready to offer everything he had.

— If you’ve spent so long together, wouldn’t you grow attached?

She recalled the question she had asked on a day at the start of summer. What had he answered then? Yes—he had said that of course one grows attached. He had compared his feelings to a dog named Iva and its descendants.

At that moment, recalling that conversation, she thought:

If that was the master’s heart, then what about Iva’s descendants?

What must be the heart of a bloodline that had served one person for hundreds of years?