Chapter 100
Omen
The fact that magitech swords had already appeared at this point—
and were even being used in secret—
was something even Isaac had not anticipated.
But it wasn’t entirely surprising.
The forces of great houses that the Marquis had mobilized to occupy Bernsi—
the shields and spears made of Dimegitrium they carried—
those too were equipment created through the Republic’s technology.
Defensive gear that disrupted mana, nullifying low-density magic and aura.
With the Republic’s revolution, many magitech engineers must have defected to the Empire.
At this point, it wouldn’t be wrong to assume that most technologies invented in the Republic were now in the Empire’s hands.
“Botmer wants a civil war.
More precisely, he wants to wipe out the royalist houses and see a kingdom dominated by the parliamentary faction.”
“I’m an old man who’s grown tired of political strife.”
“But you want the First Prince to take the throne.”
“…You truly have no filter. Those are not words to be spoken lightly—nor spoken at all.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if the Second Prince became king?”
Reich did not answer.
It was a question he could not answer.
“Even if the parliamentary faction rises, the Second Prince won’t ascend the throne.
The Empire doesn’t want him to inherit it either.”
“That’s unexpected.”
“What master would hire a servant who slaughters his own goose?”
Reich smacked his lips bitterly after saying it—
likening the Empire to the master, and the kingdom to the goose, as if it were only natural.
“Help me. Protecting Goethe won’t harm the kingdom.”
“Do you have a pipe?”
“No.”
“Tsk. Wait here. I need time to think.”
Reich stood up unsteadily.
For a man of his age, it seemed there were still things that could surprise him.
“Looking at this might help while you think.”
Isaac handed him a rolled bundle of cotton parchment.
“What is this?”
“A solution.”
“A solution to what?”
“A way to enable long-distance communication.”
“…Another piece of technology stolen from the Republic?”
“In a sense, it came from my own head.”
Reich looked at Isaac and shook his head.
“I can’t tell anymore whether you’re serious or joking.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’ll read it.”
Reich took the parchment and left the chamber.
‘Even persuading a single old man isn’t easy.’
Isaac let out a sigh and sat in a worn wooden chair.
‘Then again… even I can hardly believe this future.’
The future Isaac knew came only from books and from Jonas.
The only future he had truly witnessed was a ruined Goethe territory and countless corpses.
A future where wars erupted everywhere, followed by chaos.
Every nation poured its treasury into developing weapons through magitech.
And with it, magitech advanced at a dazzling pace.
Those who were not mages could wield magic.
Those who were not knights could use aura.
From that point on, magic and aura would no longer be divine authority as the old faith claimed,
nor the exclusive privilege of nobles, nor the basis of their status.
That, in turn, would bring conflict and chaos between classes.
By then, human life would be lighter than a feather.
Rivers would run with blood, and death would be more common than weeds.
Isaac had no grand ambition to prevent such a catastrophe.
He only wanted to protect what needed to be protected within that chaos.
At that moment, hurried footsteps broke his thoughts.
“What… what is this?!”
Reich returned to the chamber, face flushed, shaking the parchment in his hand.
“Artificial rings… artificial rings…”
The unfamiliar words lingered on his lips.
***
The Marquis returned a little over ten days after departing on his journey.
Even though he brought good news, he did not look pleased.
“We have received recognition of autonomy from the royal family. This is the royal decree.”
The luxurious parchment bearing the king’s seal granted Goethe autonomy—
while also stating that the shield tax would no longer be provided.
The Marquis avoided the Count’s gaze while repeatedly glancing at his expression.
“You’ve done well.”
The Count replied calmly, as if it were only natural.
Despite the fact that a century-long shackle had been lifted,
he showed no sign of joy.
“Continue to work on improving relations with the royal family.”
“Yes.”
The Marquis answered in a dark voice.
He had many weaknesses in the Count’s hands—
glass orbs containing the severed heads of youths,
ledgers recording the trade of goods forbidden by the royal family.
If any of those were revealed, his life would be forfeit.
“…Are you not leaving?”
The Marquis hesitated for a long while, only moving after the Count’s dismissal.
He repeatedly tried to read the Count’s expression—
but the emotionless face revealed nothing.
“I will take my leave.”
His collusion with Gutrert, the chief attendant of Viscount Botmer, had been exposed.
Gutrert had been assassinated,
and even the guards who pursued the assassin had all been killed.
Only the Count could have done such a thing.
And yet, the Count did not question him,
nor did he say a single word about the assassination.
It was as if he knew nothing—
or as if it had never happened.
Did he truly not know?
Or was he pretending not to know,
all while watching the Marquis’s every move?
Gutrert had died right beside him, his throat pierced.
Since then, the Marquis had not known a moment of peace.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he dreamed of his own throat being pierced, blood spurting out like Gutrert’s.
Unconsciously, he kept touching his neck.
It felt as if someone was watching him at all times.
How would Viscount Botmer react to this?
Would he suspect the Marquis of leaking information to Goethe—
of being a traitor?
What would he do now that the Marquis had outlived his usefulness?
“…Damn it.”
The Marquis cursed under his breath.
Every move had been read.
Even his final card had been effortlessly blocked.
He had never been pushed into such a defensive position before.
He felt like a fly—
a life that could be crushed with a flick of a finger.
“Hey.”
He stopped a passing servant.
“Yes?”
“Do you have any alcohol?”
He desperately craved brandy.
***
Early dawn.
The estate was still quiet.
A carriage waited at the entrance, and Hans was busily loading luggage.
“Enette. If you want to stay here, you can.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“As I said, there will be war. It’ll be dangerous.”
Botmer wouldn’t bring his full army to Vinfelt.
Isaac wasn’t worth that much time and expense.
But to preserve his reputation, he would certainly send enough forces to subjugate Vinfelt.
Since the declaration of war had been accepted,
blood would be shed.
And blades have no eyes.
“Even so… I’ll go. I might be useful somehow.”
Enette said, biting her lip.
“If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”
After confirming her resolve several times, Isaac nodded.
***
After Botmer’s declaration of war, the atmosphere in the estate became chaotic.
The Count, after meeting with his vassals in Goethe, had returned to Winterband.
The approaching storm came not only from Botmer, but also from the demonic realm beyond the White Serpent Mountains.
Isaac planned to leave quietly for Vinfelt.
That was why he chose the early dawn.
Of course, things never go entirely as planned.
“Huff… huff… Enette! Enette! You really—”
Clara, a maid, ran out in her nightclothes.
“Clara?”
“You’re really going? You might die if you go.”
Clara grabbed Enette tightly by the shoulders.
“I told you. I’m going.”
“You…”
“I want to live a different life.”
“….”
Clara lowered her head.
Then, with a tense expression, she looked at Isaac.
“Please take good care of Enette, Baron. Since you’ve taken her in, you’re responsible for her.”
Her voice trembled faintly.
Isaac had brutally beaten a diplomatic envoy in broad daylight
and had even taken a guard’s sword to try and kill him.
Not only the nobles, but the servants had witnessed it all clearly.
Botmer’s chief attendant was a noble.
Isaac was the kind of person who would kill even a noble without hesitation if angered.
To make such a demand of him directly—
required tremendous courage.
“Clara!”
Enette, her face flushed red, stepped in front of Clara to stop her.
“W-what? Did I say something wrong? You absolutely, absolutely have to bring her back alive!”
“S-sorry, young master. Clara’s still half asleep.”
“It’s fine.”
Isaac let out a small chuckle.
“You have to come back alive, Enette. And if there’s a good man in Vinfelt, let me know.”
Clara teared up and pulled Enette into a tight hug.
“Oh, and this.”
Sniffling, Clara handed over a letter.
“What’s this? It’s one of the letters you received.”
“I told you, I don’t read them. I don’t even know how.”
“I thought you should at least look at this one. Ask someone who can read when you get there.”
Clara wasn’t the only one who had come out at dawn to see them off.
First came the nanny, Gisela.
Then the chief attendant, Schiller.
And finally, Jonas.
“Take this with you for the journey.”
Gisela handed over a basket filled with apple pie.
A rich, sweet aroma rose from it.
It was still warm, as if freshly baked.
“Thank you, nanny. Stay healthy until we meet again.”
“You must return safely, young master.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she embraced Isaac.
To her, Isaac looked like someone being dragged to his death.
Outwardly, Isaac was a mad brat—
a troublemaker cast out from Goethe after killing a servant, now facing the consequences.
But to her, Isaac was simply Isaac.
No matter the rumors, no matter that she didn’t know his true intentions—
she believed she could see him as he truly was.
At least, she believed she did.
“Big bro, if you need anything, just say the word! I’ll smash them all for you!”
Jonas, still half-asleep, rubbed his eyes as he spoke.
“…Where did you even learn to talk like that?”
“Huh? Vivi taught me. She said a man needs to know how to talk rough sometimes.”
“Vivi” was Violet’s nickname.
‘Didn’t expect that from her…’
For a moment, Isaac wondered if it had been a mistake to leave Jonas’s education to her.
“If things become difficult, please return at any time. This will always be your home, young master.”
With Schiller’s farewell, Isaac and his group boarded the carriage.
The coachman flicked the reins lightly, and the carriage set off along the northern road.
***
Inside the carriage, it was quiet.
Enette stared out the window.
Isaac read a book he had prepared.
Hans wanted to talk, but couldn’t find a topic, so he simply shifted his gaze around.
Then he noticed the letter in Enette’s hand.
“Enette, what’s that letter?”
“Oh, this? I’m not sure. Roza told me to keep it.”
Enette explained the flood of letters she had received after the competition.
They were all written on fine paper.
She didn’t know their contents.
Later, Roza had hinted that most of them were offers—
to take her in as an adopted daughter or to hire her as a tutor.
“I heard most of them were like that. I don’t know why she specifically told me to keep this one.”
“Can I read it?”
“Can you read the common language?”
“I’ve memorized some spelling. I can read simple sentences.”
Hans spoke confidently.
If he was going to serve Isaac, he needed at least basic literacy in the common tongue.
He had been studying on his own.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t read Enette’s letter.
It was written in elegant noble cursive.
After turning it upside down and sideways several times, Hans sighed.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m not that curious anyway.”
“Want me to read it?”
Isaac asked, lifting his gaze from the book.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to bother, young master—no, Baron.”
“I’m curious.”
Though Enette tried to stop him, Isaac took the letter from Hans.
After reading a few lines, he burst out laughing.
Enette and Hans looked at him in confusion.
“Now I see why Roza told you to keep this. It’s very important.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll read it.”
Isaac smiled mischievously at Enette.
“To the elegant and noble Lady Enette. I write this letter with trembling hands and a burning heart.”
“…Since the moment I first beheld you, your grace and noble spirit have captured my soul, leaving your name etched within my heart alone. Since that day, a flame of love has ignited within me, growing ever stronger until it threatens to consume me…”
“I dare confess my feelings because I believe in your nobility and kindness. My love is—”
“S-stop! Please stop reading!”
Enette’s face turned bright red, as if it might burst.
“Why? It’s good.”
To Isaac, who possessed an old soul, the love games of the young were amusing and refreshing.
It brought neither money nor power,
nor magical achievement nor scholarly advancement.
Yet here was a nobleman writing such a long, heartfelt letter to a mere commoner.
His feelings must be just as sincere.
“That’s quite a love-filled letter.”
Hans chuckled.
“Hey!”
Enette shouted, only making Hans laugh harder.
“Give it back, Baron. It’s just a joke letter.”
“Doesn’t look like a joke. There’s even a name and family at the end.
‘Beltran von Büchtner, who offers you eternal devotion and love. I wish to become your faithful servant and devoted knight.’
This guy seems completely smitten with you.”
Beltran von Büchtner.
Isaac recognized the name.
The second son of a vassal under Viscount Botmer—
the one who had nearly awakened a spirit king through his folly.
At the competition, he had also made a strong impression by demonstrating magic that created a massive block of ice.
“Baron, you should be careful. It seems there are men after Enette.”
“Seems like it.”
“Ugh…”
Enette covered her burning face.
***
Thud.
The carriage suddenly came to a stop.
“L-L-Lord Baron…”
The coachman spoke in a trembling voice.
Ahead on the road, more than a dozen armed men were blocking the way.