Chapter 91

“Grant Them a Title”

During the competition period, banquets were held each evening.

Venison and boar meat, salmon and herring.
Pies and pastries, white bread were served as meals, along with wine, ale, and mead as drinks.
Musicians played instruments, and bards entertained with songs and stories, enlivening the atmosphere.
It wasn’t extravagant, but it had all the essentials.

The Great Hall buzzed with music, chatter, and laughter.
Among the crowd, those who had shown outstanding performances—Jonas, Beltran, and Enette—were especially surrounded by people.

In particular, an overwhelming number of nobles gathered around Enette.
Those curious about her background were astonished to learn that she had once been a servant in this very estate and had only recently begun learning magic.

Among practitioners of magic, no one criticized Enette’s status.
Instead, they were intensely interested in her level of skill and who had taught her.
To them, Enette was a new source of fascination.

Enette, meanwhile, was struggling to handle the sudden attention and endless questions she had never experienced before.

“She’s your disciple, isn’t she?”
“You could say that.”

Isaac gave a slight nod at Violet’s question.

“What should we do? She looks like she’s already overwhelmed.”

The two stood at a corner of the hall, away from the center of the banquet, observing the surroundings.
They couldn’t yet assume that all threats had passed.
There was still a chance the Botmer family had prepared a contingency.

“She’ll have to endure that much.”
“It’s tough for her. She can’t exactly say you taught her magic, after all.”
“True.”

Isaac smiled faintly as he watched Enette from afar, clearly at a loss.

She had done well today.

Exceptionally well.
She had shown results beyond what Isaac himself had taught her.

“It was close. If that Büchtner boy had interfered even a little, the Spirit King would have awakened.”

Violet spoke as if recalling the moment.
The recovered spirit stone was like a cup filled to the brim—
one drop more, and it would have overflowed.

“Yeah. It was a fairly solid scheme.”

Isaac’s smile turned cold.

Viscount Botmer’s plan itself had been flawless.

In the original course of events, the Spirit King’s rampage would have caused severe casualties among Goethe’s vassals.
Their discontent would escalate to the point of shaking their sworn bonds.
The count would be gravely injured, Goethe would weaken,
and Botmer would exploit that opening.

Isaac scanned the nobles attending the banquet, lost in thought.
Botmer was likely already attempting to win over Goethe’s vassals.
Some might have already been persuaded.

Once, knights who had stood alongside Goethe’s previous head had defended the walls of Winterband together.
The current vassals were their second and third generations.

There had been a time when the bonds forged in shared life-and-death struggles were stronger than blood.

But time had passed.
Those bonds and memories had long faded.

‘This year will likely be a long winter.’

Isaac thought.

“Want a smoke?”

Violet pulled out a cigarette wrapped in fine fiber paper from her pocket.
Isaac seemed deep in thought, but he shook his head.

“Wasn’t that a bit too hasty?”

Violet lit the cigarette with magic and took a drag.

“What was?”
“Cutting off that servant’s head. If you had interrogated him, he could have been used as a witness.”

The servant from the Botmer family who had tried to deliver the spirit stone to Beltran—
the man named Emil—had been abducted by Pallich while waiting in the Great Hall.
His severed head was then delivered in a wooden box to Botmer’s head steward.

Viscount Botmer would soon learn of it.

“Even if he testified, would Botmer’s side have acknowledged it?”
“But as it stands, it’s practically a declaration of war.”

Isaac had sent Emil’s head under his own name.
It was an unmistakable provocation.

“Yeah. It is a declaration of war.”

Isaac let out a faint, crooked smile.

***

“Stubborn bunch, aren’t they.”

Reich entered the count’s private study without knocking.
The count silently glanced at him and lit his pipe.

“Are kids these days ignorant of the world, or do those from the north just mature faster?”
“Why are you so irritated, Master Reich?”

The count responded a beat late, exhaling smoke.

“Do you see horns on me? I might as well become a demon soon.”
“Shall I request an exorcist from the Holy See?”
“That kind of joke doesn’t suit you.”

Reich frowned, dissatisfied.
In contrast, the count smiled faintly—a rare sight.
Marcel Reich was one of the few people before whom the count could show such expressions.

“Couldn’t secure the ones you wanted, I see.”
“Tell me honestly. Has the prestige of the Royal Academy fallen so much without me noticing?”
“You’re asking someone who hasn’t left the frontier in over a decade?”
“Tch. Hmph.”

Marcel Reich smacked his lips.

Among the contestants he had marked for special admission to the Academy, there were three.
In his eyes, all three were worthy of being called geniuses.

Enette, Beltran, and Jonas.

Of the three, only Beltran had readily accepted the offer of special admission.
Enette and Jonas had both clearly refused.

“Jonas is one thing. The Royal Academy is practically in the jaws of the parliamentary faction anyway. But what about Enette? Who taught that child? No matter how much I pressured or persuaded her, she refused to say a word about her master.”

“Enette is someone Isaac put forward as his proxy. Naturally, it would be Isaac.”

“That brat? Hmph. If he doesn’t intend to teach, then so be it.”

Reich snorted.

The count only smiled silently.

“Does he have some secret teaching method? When I first saw Jonas’s demonstration, I almost fainted thinking it was dual casting.”
“Good thing you didn’t. Now you know it wasn’t.”
“Good thing? A nine-year-old freely controlling both magic and spirit arts—is that supposed to be normal?”
“Unfortunately, Goethe doesn’t have anything you’d call a secret tradition. You know that.”
“You say there’s no secret, which only convinces me there is one. Did he teach Enette the same way?”

Reich narrowed his eyes.

“You won’t get anything out of me. I don’t actually know anything either.”
“You’ve always been full of secrets. Just like when you suddenly quit the Academy and said you’d marry Adele without a word. That wild warrior tribe girl becoming the lady of Goethe… still hard to believe.”
“That’s in the past. Did you come all this way just to talk about that?”
“If you had stayed at the Academy back then, you’d be the Grand Chancellor of Scholarship by now.”
“Master Reich.”
“Alright, alright. If you’re embarrassed, just say so. No need to get so serious. Hoo…”

Reich muttered and let out a sigh.

“A month ago, His Majesty suffered a seizure.”

Reich groaned as he spoke.
Though he was the dean of the Academy, he was also an advisor to the royal family.

“So… it’s finally happened.”

The count’s expression hardened.

The current royal line had been maintained through marriages between close relatives.
The seizures were a side effect of that.
In every case, without exception, those of royal blood who suffered seizures died of heart failure within a few years.
The king would be no exception.

In other words, the fragile balance of the royal court—maintained by delaying the designation of an heir—was beginning to collapse.

“It’s already boiling over. Six members of the royal family have died. There was even an attempted poisoning of the First Prince.”

“Has the culprit been identified?”

The count handed his pipe to Reich.

“The pawns were caught quickly enough. The sous-chef, the table steward, the storage manager, and several cooks—every one of them had their heads cut off.”

Reich took the pipe and exhaled a deep breath of smoke.

“And the one behind them?”
“There was torture for three days and nights. Two seemed genuinely ignorant, and the other four kept their mouths shut to the end.”
“The capital must be in chaos.”
“You have no idea. Knights of the royalist and parliamentary factions nearly came to blows inside the palace.”

Reich spun the pipe in his hand, his expression troubled.
Then he looked straight at the count.

“Helmut von Goethe. Don’t forget—you are the shield of the royal family.”

“I am the shield of the kingdom. That alone will never change.”

“Heh. Just like you.”

Reich let out a dry laugh.

Not the shield of the royal family, but the shield of the kingdom.
It meant the count had no intention of siding with either the royalists or the parliamentary faction.
He acknowledged the legitimacy of the First Prince, yet refused to be dragged into their muddy struggle—
nor did he care for whatever gains might come from it.

A very “count-like” stance.

“I’d like to say that stubborn attitude is why you’ve ended up isolated… but considering the chaos ahead, that kind of noble mindset may be exactly what the kingdom needs right now.”

“Have you been drinking? You flatter me too much.”
“That’s enough. I’ll head back and enjoy the banquet. If I stay near someone as dreary as you, I’ll age even faster.”

Reich handed the pipe back and stood.
Muttering to himself, he nodded as if satisfied and left the study.

“Have a good evening.”
“You as well.”

Even after Reich departed, the count remained in his study.

Faintly, he could hear laughter and chatter from guests stepping outside the Great Hall to breathe fresh air—
things that did not suit him.

He walked to the table and examined the map of the Goethe territory spread across it.

The royal situation was far from normal.
At any moment, civil war could break out.

What would Goethe protect?

Sooner or later, a decision would have to be made.

Time passed in contemplation.

“My lord. Young Master Isaac requests an audience.”

A guard’s voice came from outside the door.

“Let him in.”

The study door opened, and Isaac entered.

“Is it wise for the host of the banquet to leave his seat, Father?”

A wine bottle was in Isaac’s hand.
The smell of alcohol was strong.

“There’s no need to pretend in front of me. Who did you cause trouble for today?”

“I don’t always cause trouble.”
“I heard the guard you assaulted when Marquis Dietrich visited has quit his job.”
“That’s unfortunate.”

Isaac shrugged.
It had been necessary.

“Dean Marcel seemed particularly interested in Enette.”
“Is that so.”
“You don’t intend to tell me either? That girl couldn’t even speak the common tongue, let alone ancient language—how did she produce magic of that level in just a few months?”

“As I said, Enette’s talent is simply exceptional. I only recognized it.”
“If you taught her magic, then she must know that you can use magic as well. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Is she trustworthy?”
“If you’re asking whether her loyalty can be trusted, I don’t know. But I do believe she wants a better life.”
“You’re soft.”

The count sighed lightly and returned to his seat.

Since Isaac had entered, his fingers had been lightly tapping the desk.
Thinking about the royal situation alone made his head ache,
but recalling Jonas’s performance put him in a rather good mood.

“What about Jonas? I never imagined he would learn spirit arts.”
“That, too…”
“Because of his talent?”
“Yes. And the heir of the Fleur family personally taught him spirit arts.”

The count and Isaac continued discussing the competition.
Most of it centered on Jonas’s magic demonstration.

Both of them were clearly pleased talking about his performance.

“So, why did you come to see me at this hour? Surely not because you’ve grown tired of causing a ruckus at the banquet.”

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

Isaac let out a faint chuckle.

“I’m asking.”

The count added, maintaining a stern expression.

“I came to receive recognition. After all, thanks to me, Goethe’s prestige has risen among the vassals.”
“You came to boast?”
“You could say that.”
“Well done.”

The count readily gave the praise Isaac wanted.
It sounded stiff and insincere, but it was the best he could do.

However, Isaac had no intention of leaving it at that.

“The recognition I want isn’t something you can settle with words.”
“You want something?”
“Yes.”
“As for the republican exiles, that matter has already been handled.”
“That was compensation for stabilizing the city. This time, I intend to ask for something else.”

“Speak.”

“You granted me land—now grant me a title as well.”

“A title?”

The count’s expression gradually stiffened.