Chapter 59
Tracking
Isaac’s decision to help Madam Randolph was not born purely from kindness or goodwill.
Although the guards of Bern were paid by the City Council, most of them had once served in Winterband as soldiers of Goethe.
Whether they were wounded veterans, or soldiers unable to continue service due to trauma or depression—
they had each drifted into the city in search of a way to survive.
Would such men not know Randolph?
He had been a knight who devoted half his life to Goethe.
At the very least, any soldier who had endured winters alongside him in Winterband would sooner protect Randolph’s children than kidnap them.
Then was it the work of vagrants or gangs?
‘Why would they bother?’
If it were human trafficking, there were plenty of easier targets—
homeless children with no family or background, instead of the children of a quasi-noble.
That narrowed the suspects down.
Those bold enough to do this must have powerful backing.
It was unlikely to be simple trafficking—there was probably a specific reason behind it.
Isaac suspected that behind it all—whether the marquis or some shadowy faction in the city—there was something more at play.
“Carlson, go to the slums and check if anyone has seen children resembling Wolfgang or Herman. You remember the description Madam gave, right?”
“Yes.”
“Bill, head to the sewage channels. If the children were sold to slave traders, they would’ve passed through the black market there. Also check for any connection to Weissman.”
“Understood.”
As the sun began to set,
Isaac, having arrived in Bern, gave his orders.
Already, two and a half days had passed—
and now another half day had slipped by.
“…Where are we going?”
Madam Randolph asked.
There was no color left in her face.
At a glance, she looked like a corpse speaking.
That was how pale she had become.
She was utterly exhausted.
The thought that her children might already be dead,
the faint hope that still lingered,
and the maternal instinct that at least wanted to recover their bodies—
all of it clashed within her, slowly consuming her.
“At the inn, there are things your children used, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go to the inn.”
Randolph’s inn felt eerie.
The place that once had delicious ale and beds scented with wildflowers was now silent.
Tables and chairs were overturned, and as dusk approached, shadows deepened in every corner.
“…What should I do now?”
Madam Randolph asked, her eyes empty.
“Light the lamps first. Then gather everything your children used—especially items that touched their bodies and might still carry their scent.”
“…What are you going to use them for?”
“Just do it.”
***
At Isaac’s words, she moved like a ghost.
She stumbled into tables, the bar, and the stair railings, but paid no attention, continuing forward unsteadily.
Isaac clicked his tongue.
Loss destroys daily life.
Those who lose their routine lose track of time—
and those who lose time eventually lose their lives.
When he lost Hans.
When he lost his nanny.
When he lost Lucas.
Isaac had been the same.
That’s why the first thing someone who suffers loss must do is protect their daily life—
if they wish to keep living.
While Madam Randolph lit the lamps and gathered the children’s belongings,
Isaac quietly straightened the tables and chairs on the first floor.
‘Randolph’s children…’
From what he had heard on the way, Wolfgang was ten, Herman nine.
He had never heard their names in either of his lifetimes.
Wolfgang had begun dreaming of becoming a merchant after listening to Carlson.
Herman stubbornly wanted to become a knight like his father.
Would those children be allowed a future?
The odds were not high.
Winter… war…
they were advancing steadily, even if slowly.
And yet—
He wished they could at least be given another chance, like he had.
Isaac thought so.
His own life was already decided.
But theirs was still full of possibilities.
“…Here. This is everything.”
Madam Randolph returned, arms full of items.
A spare set of clothes each.
A worn sword.
Wooden toy pieces.
And a simple book written in the common tongue.
“Will this really help?”
“It will. A lot.”
The method of imprinting a scent on a hunting dog and letting it track prey was ancient.
Records from before the kingdom’s founding described similar techniques.
If a method had survived that long, it meant it had been proven effective.
And Isaac just happened to have a very large “dog.”
If he showed it to Madam Randolph or the townspeople, they’d likely faint or foam at the mouth.
There was a reason it was called a hell wolf.
Fortunately, the hell wolf didn’t need to enter the inn.
Thanks to the bond he shared with the Wolf King, Isaac could share its senses.
What he needed now was a distinctive scent—
something that could be distinguished from all others.
“…What are you doing?”
To Madam Randolph, Isaac simply looked like he was picking things up and putting them down repeatedly.
“Quiet.”
Unlike appearances, Isaac was focusing intensely on his sense of smell.
A human’s sense of smell fatigues quickly.
He needed to capture the exact sensation and transmit it precisely to the hell wolf.
Once that was done, the rest would be easy.
The magical beast’s superior senses would find the Randolph brothers.
***
“…Milk…
…wildflowers…”
Isaac muttered as he identified distinct scents.
In a city where countless smells mixed together,
it was rare for those particular scents to combine.
“…What?”
“Stay here. The children might come back.”
“…Can’t I come with you?”
Fear was clear on Madam Randolph’s face.
Alone in the empty inn, she felt like she might be consumed by the dark thoughts creeping into her mind.
“Don’t give up. Wolfgang and Herman only have you to rely on.”
“Keep the place brightly lit and wait. Take in guests, prepare food. If the children return, they’ll be hungry.”
“…Yes.”
She nodded faintly.
By the time Isaac left the inn, the surroundings were already dim.
He didn’t head toward the southern slums or the sewage channels.
Instead, he moved toward the northern residential district—
past the central City Council, beyond the high-end inns, further west.
Piiii—!
A loud whistle suddenly pierced the air.
‘There.’
Isaac immediately began running in that direction.
“A monster! A monster has appeared!”
“It’s a huge wolf!”
“It’s on the roof!”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Crash!
Stone roof tiles shattered and fell onto the street.
Pedestrians looked up in shock—and saw it.
A massive wolf.
“Ahhh!”
“A monster!”
The hell wolf leapt from roof to roof.
Militia and guards chased after it, blowing whistles.
Chaos erupted.
Wherever the massive creature passed, rooftops shattered or collapsed.
“Where the hell are you aiming, idiot?!”
“Crossbows! Bring crossbows!”
The guards could only stare helplessly upward, like dogs chasing chickens.
Their hastily prepared ranged weapons didn’t even graze the hell wolf.
They chased it—but at the same time feared what would happen if it jumped down and attacked them.
That conflict made their movements sluggish.
Awooooo—
Suddenly, the hell wolf howled from atop a three-story roof.
The eerie cry echoed through the darkening evening, freezing both pedestrians and guards alike.
It was a sound that triggered instinctive fear—
the kind a prey animal feels when facing a natural predator.
“S-surely… it’s not calling more monsters?”
After finishing its howl, the hell wolf sprinted toward Bern’s northern gate.
‘Good.’
That howl had been a signal—calling any pack members scattered nearby to gather at a specific location.
But there were no other hell wolves in the area.
Which meant… it was meant for Isaac.
It meant the wolf had followed the scent trail—and found the Randolph brothers.
***
At the location the hell wolf indicated stood a manor surrounded by a stone wall.
“What do you want, kid?”
Two men were guarding the entrance.
They wore leather gambesons, polished and well-treated, gleaming like armor.
Despite the chaos caused by the hell wolf in the city, they seemed unfazed.
Magical beasts weren’t unfamiliar to them.
At a glance, they were seasoned mercenaries—
carrying a presence entirely different from Weissman’s swordsmen like Pallich or Gerald.
“I asked you something!”
One of them shoved Isaac roughly.
‘House of Mercy?’
The place Isaac had arrived at was an orphanage supported by the City Council.
He spoke calmly.
“I am Isaac von Goethe. The eldest son of the Goethe family.”
***
The two mercenaries exchanged glances.
The boy’s appearance and tone clearly carried noble bearing—
calm, confident, with a subtle air of condescension.
“…And what brings you here?”
Their attitude became more cautious—
but suspicion remained.
After all, the first son of a frontier count had arrived without any escort,
and at night, no less.
“I’d like to make a donation to the House of Mercy.”
The mercenaries eyed him skeptically.
He certainly looked noble, but that alone didn’t prove he was the eldest son.
Children of merchant nobles in the city could carry themselves similarly.
“How do we believe you?”
“Will this do?”
Isaac handed each of them two silver coins.
Their expressions softened immediately.
To them, silver was persuasion enough.
“Wait here.”
Whether Isaac was truly a noble didn’t matter.
As long as they were paid, they would do as asked.
One mercenary went inside.
Time passed in awkward silence between Isaac and the remaining guard.
“Go on in. The head nun will see you.”
Permission was granted.
***
The orphanage—
House of Mercy of Saint Ursus.
Creeeak—
The iron gates opened.
Passing through a birch-lined path, Isaac entered a small garden.
Well-kept grass and trimmed trees surrounded children playing ball.
It felt… strange.
Torches were set up around the area, but the ball itself was still hard to see in the dim light.
Yet the children seemed happy.
They chased a ball made from a pig’s bladder, laughing endlessly.
“They never get tired…”
The mercenary clicked his tongue in irritation as he led Isaac toward the building.
The sound of insects, laughter, and children playing filled the air.
Peaceful—but somehow unsettling.
Then suddenly, Isaac locked eyes with one of the children.
The child was grinning widely—
but his eyes had no focus.
“…What?”
Around the garden, mercenaries in gambesons were stationed at intervals.
They yawned lazily, looking bored.
But each of them carried a sword at their waist.
At least five or six were on guard.
Following the stone path, Isaac reached the main building.
It felt less like a residence
and more like a small chapel—or a modest palace.
Why would an orphanage require this level of investment?
Naturally, Isaac concluded this was no ordinary orphanage.
“Wait here.”
The mercenary who had guided him stepped inside.
Soon, a middle-aged woman in a nun’s habit emerged.
“…Young master?”
“You’re the head here?”
“Yes. It’s an honor. I am Hindi, the head of this place.”
“Sorry for coming unannounced.”
“Not at all. Anyone willing to donate for the children is always welcome.”
The head nun was younger than expected.
For someone in charge of such a facility, Isaac had expected someone nearing old age.
But her face showed she had only just entered middle age.
Perhaps that was why she didn’t feel much like a nun.
Or perhaps it was the silk habit she wore.
Or the golden cross hanging around her neck.
Especially with her riveted glasses,
she looked more like a strict gem appraiser than a woman of faith.
***
‘A mage?’
Isaac detected two rings of mana from her.
She was a second-class mage.
That alone wasn’t strange.
In the old faith, magic was considered a power granted by the divine.
Clergy often trained such abilities to honor their god.
That was natural.
But the mana leaking from her body—
it was different.
Unrefined.
And… sinister.
Mana responds to the will of an intelligent being.
And that will reflects their inner world—their desires, their worldview.
‘Interesting…’
As someone who had devoted a lifetime to studying magic,
Isaac found himself intrigued.
What kind of inner self would produce mana that felt so damp… so ominous?
Even Bishop Levonius, whom he had faced before, hadn’t been like this.
“Please, come inside.”
The head nun said with a gentle smile.
-it’s moving again!”