"Marquis! Wake up! Marquis!"
"...You came."
His voice made it sound like he was at death’s door. When I checked his health through the Manager Scouter, it read critical. Locking up an eighty-year-old man in a place like this! Those scum have no respect for their elders!
Then I discovered marks of severe torture on the old man’s body.
The moment I saw them, uncontrollable rage boiled up inside me.
"Those sons of bitches! Torturing you like this!"
Festering wounds and a terrible stench, burn marks, twisted limbs, and countless stab wounds. But what grieved me most of all was that the old man’s eyes... were gone.
"I’ll do the exact same thing to the sons of bitches who did this to you!"
"Sir, I do not want revenge. They were merely following orders. I too am a man who killed many through torture. Wouldn’t it be shameless of me to hold a grudge now?"
Even having lost both eyes, the old man smiled faintly.
His body was so wasted that he was nothing but skin and bones.
"In my youth I was accustomed to harsh torture, but with age I can no longer endure it as I once did. Cough, cough! I’m truly glad you came before I died."
"You’re joking even now? Who says anyone’s dying?!"
"...Are you weeping for this old man? Great knight."
Tears blurred my vision.
So much so that I thought my own eyes had gone blind like his.
If I hadn’t arrived in time, it would have haunted me for the rest of my life.
"Even without sight, I can feel your hot tears wetting my face."
I already knew. Judging by the old man’s condition and the Manager Scouter’s readings, there was no hope of him surviving. It was so sad and heartbreaking that I could hardly bear it.
"It seems this old man’s turn as bait was worth it."
"Why on earth did you become bait? At your age!"
"To deceive the cunning duke. Thanks to this old man’s sacrifice, the eastern branch chief was able to earn the duke’s trust. The information he handed over must have seemed very useful to the duke."
"...You even used the turncoats?"
"I knew from the beginning that they would betray us."
So even their betrayal had been factored into the calculations.
He had endured brutal torture solely to deceive the duke.
"It was a plan devised by Clara, that brilliant child. But, hurk! Ack! Hff, the plan had one flaw. To make it perfect, a sacrifice was needed. This old man volunteered to be the bait."
All of it was a scheme to deceive the duke. Clara had known about the betrayal of the eastern branch chief, Niklas, and intended to use it to feed false information to the duke.
But the cunning duke wasn’t so easily convinced. It was only because a big fish like Old Man Bertheim became bait that the duke came to trust the turncoats, and with the information gained that way, the duke dealt a blow to the grand duke’s army.
The grand duke’s army’s defeat and its retreat all the way back to Breisburg — all of it was a perfect production scripted by Clara and staged by the grand duke. It must have been to draw the duke away from Radensdorf.
Thanks to that stratagem, the Western Lords’ Army, having subdued the south, was able to take Radensdorf with ease. Realizing in the end that everything had been in the palm of the grand duke’s hand, I couldn’t help but shudder.
Even Niklas instigating the assassination was nothing but a trivial variable. No, even if I had died, it wouldn’t have significantly affected the grand design.
The duke’s army was already mired in a swamp, with nothing awaiting it but defeat.
"Gale Knight. Do you now understand why I told you not to enter this world?"
"...I understand. But one way or another, I’ll have no choice but to wade in."
"Is that so. Still, seeing the man you’ve become, I believe you’ll do well. Cough, cough!"
Gasping for breath, the old man told me about the others who had been imprisoned here. Margareta, who had been in secret contact with us, and Ulrich. Ulrich? My wife’s younger brother was held here too?
My younger brother-in-law had stayed in the east on the grand duke’s orders to keep watch on the duke. I had only heard that he was cooperating with Old Man Bertheim and that his whereabouts had become a mystery — but he too had volunteered to be bait.
The sacrifice of Bertheim, former head of Hoenir and the late king’s right hand, and Ulrich, second son of the War Minister and the man responsible for Breisburg’s eastern border, was enough to deceive the duke.
But the most important figure was someone else entirely.
A young lady of noble birth whom the Guard commander attended with the utmost care.
"There was a noble guest from Bavaria."
"A noble guest? Do you happen to know who?"
"A princess of the Bavarian House of Wittelsbach."
It was a rank I had never even considered, and I couldn’t help but be shocked.
The Bavarian House of Wittelsbach was the grand ducal house of Bavaria, a family that had once boasted immense power with the right to vote in imperial elections, but after it was stripped of that electoral vote, its influence had waned.
The reason they lost the vote was the Palatinate House of Wittelsbach, which ruled the Duchy of Württemberg. The two had originally been one family, but partible inheritance had split them into two lines.
That’s why the Wittelsbachs had reigned as the second greatest power after Luxembourg, the foremost family of the era. But things grew tangled when the Palatinate Wittelsbachs inherited the ducal title of Franconia, an elector’s seat.
A situation arose where two electoral votes fell to a single family.
Facing backlash from the emperor and the imperial nobles, one of the two votes had to be revoked, and when the Palatinate Wittelsbachs stabbed their kinsmen in the back, the Duchy of Bavaria was forced out of its elector status.
As a result, relations between the Palatinate and Bavaria turned extremely sour. Moreover, the Palatinate was a powerful electorate ruling the vast territories of Franconia and Württemberg, so even the Duchy of Bavaria found them a heavy burden.
"Bavaria and Karlus were hostile, so Bavaria judged it advantageous to join hands with Johannes. But all their plans went awry. Ack, hurk! Hff, Karlus is no ordinary grand duke."
The dying old man, casting formality aside, called the grand duke and the duke by name and lamented that he wouldn’t live to watch the amusing relationship with Bavaria play out.
It was interesting, to be sure, but relations between Bavaria and Beren could easily plunge to their worst and erupt into war. The problem was that Beren had expended much of its strength on the civil war and had nothing left to spare.
"The Palatinate is in poor shape as well. They say the count palatine has grown so old he can barely move. A fellow younger than me, at that. Cough, cough! His children will start a civil war over the inheritance. Cough!"
Cough! Cough!
"Talking this much is taxing. The Guard commander fled through an underground passage with the hostage. It’s surely connected to the outside. Go after them. Krgh! Hurk!"
"Stop! Stop talking! You’re coughing up blood!"
Fresh blood spilled from the old man’s mouth.
Startled, I wiped his mouth with my cloak.
The strength seemed to be draining from his body little by little.
"Hahh, hahh. I don’t have much time left."
"Don’t say that! Hilda is pregnant! You have to see your great-grandchild!"
The old man, who had gone limp, stirred again. Hilda was also very dear to him. After all, it was the old man who had brought Hilda and me together.
"Ahh, is that so. That little child has received God’s blessing. You’ve brought this old man truly wonderful news. The road ahead won’t be so lonely."
"Call me Wolf, Grandfather!"
"Wolf... yes, Wolf. Cough!"
It felt like the wall between the old man and me had finally come down. We had grown closer, more like family, but that time was tragically short. I should have reached out to him sooner.
I had used being busy with work as an excuse and never did.
The saying that you only realize someone’s worth after they’re gone came to mind.
"Hahh, hahh. Wolf, may I name your child?"
"You’re my grandfather. Of course you may!"
"Grrgh, grgh. Hahh, hahh. If it’s a boy, he’ll be the son of a great wolf, so name him Adolf, the noble wolf. And if it’s a girl, name her Valentina. Cough, cough! She’ll take after Hilda and be very healthy."
Adolf if it’s a boy, Valentina if it’s a girl.
I held the old man’s hand tight.
"Forgive me, Wolf. Forgive this wretched grandfather."
The old man’s condition turned very strange. He confessed to me endlessly, laying bare his regrets one after another. All I could do was listen in silence.
"It was I who sent Aseldorf to Richard (Baron Constance). In the end, my judgment led to your father’s death, and I have been so sorry and so ashamed. That was the last burden I carried."
Only now did I understand why my father, a duchy knight, had stayed with Baron Constance until the very end. The old man’s care for me was deeply connected to my father’s death.
As head of Hoenir at the time, the old man had probably been using my father to keep watch on Baron Constance, a close confidant of the crown prince. Which would mean my father was no stranger to Hoenir either.
On the verge of death, the old man begged for my forgiveness.
And I forgave him.
"...I forgive you."
"Thank you... thank you."
With a serene smile, Walter von Bertheim departed forever to the Lord’s side. Facing the death of someone so close to me for the first time, I wailed, almost screaming.
[Ho ho ho, as expected, you never fail to meet my expectations.]
[I have always thought of you as my own grandson.]
[The work of the shadows must be left to the shadows. You tend to your own duty.]
[Always watch your step. Don’t take this old man’s advice lightly.]
"Aaaaaargh!"
I wailed on and on, until Anton and my men, having finished off the Guard, approached.
But the war was not over yet.