The mornings in Schtong Fief always possessed a unique kind of tranquility.
Dewdrops clung to the petals in the rose garden, refracting the light of the rising sun.
Wolner von Hochberg loved mornings like these.
He would usually hold a cup of black tea and sit in his favorite rocking chair before the French windows of his study, quietly reading a volume of poetry.
As one of the nine Great Electors of Leithanien, Wolner was something of an anomaly.
He had no passion for power struggles and little desire for wealth. Some privately called him "the poet who lives in the clouds."
Today, he was reading a collection of sonnets from ancient Siracusa. The poet praised love and freedom with the most beautiful verses, and the emotions that leaped from the page resonated deeply with Wolner.
He felt his own life was much the same.
"My lord."
The old butler's voice sounded from outside the door, interrupting Wolner's contemplation.
"Come in."
The butler entered, holding a letter.
"This was tucked inside a cargo manifest from Caplania this morning," the butler explained.
The envelope bore no crest, nor any seal.
Wolner's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
In an era where communication was strictly governed by ceremony and status, an anonymous letter usually meant trouble.
He set down his book of poems and picked up the letter.
The envelope was thin and of coarse quality. His name was written on it in neat script, and nothing more.
He waved the butler away and stood alone before the window, slitting the envelope open with a paper knife.
The letter's contents were brief, just a few words.
But a single glance was all it took for the blood to freeze in his veins.
Vivianna...
The letter mentioned this name.
His daughter, the continuation of his life, and also his greatest weakness.
The bloodline of the Droste family, descendants of the Witch King's remnants—this identity was a sword of Damocles hanging over him and his daughter.
In a matter of seconds, Wolner's face turned deathly pale. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and he unconsciously crumpled the letter in his hand.
He staggered back two steps and collapsed into his chair, his heart pounding wildly, nearly bursting from his chest.
It's over.
The thought exploded in his mind.
He had imagined the scene of this secret being exposed countless times, and each time, it filled him with bone-chilling terror.
The wrath of the Twin Empresses, the greed of the other Electors, the hatred the entire old nobility held for the Witch King's remnants—they would tear him and his family to pieces.
And Vivianna, his poor daughter, she would be used as evidence of the crime, dragged before a tribunal to suffer the same fate as her mother's family.
He covered his face, gasping in agony.
The elegant world he had built of poetry and art came crashing down at this moment, leaving only a cold, stark reality.
Who?
Who could know this so clearly?
He forced himself to calm down and smoothed out the crumpled letter.
At the bottom of the page, he saw a signature.
—Gertrude.
Minister of Intelligence and Propaganda for the Wasser Fief Workers' Party.
Wolner's pupils contracted sharply.
He certainly knew that name. It was always associated with another—
Lacey.
The commoner who, in the span of a single year, had gone from an unknown workers' leader to the Elector of Wasser Fief.
The bumpkin who had debated circles around the established nobles at the Imperial Central Parliament, leaving them speechless.
The madman who had personally thrown Count Austin and his son from their tower.
It was Lacey.
The realization sent a chill deep into Wolner's bones, yet it also brought with it a strange sense of calm.
The fear remained, but his chaotic thoughts began to clear.
Lacey knew everything.
But he had not chosen to take this fatal piece of intelligence directly to the Twin Empresses, or to sell it to his political enemies.
He had chosen to deliver the letter into his hands in this private manner.
"..."
He wants to negotiate?
Wolner felt like an animal driven into a hunter's trap, a noose already around his neck, the other end of the rope held firmly in the hands of that young Elector.
The instinct for survival overrode everything else.
He could not simply wait for death. He had to meet Lacey, had to find out what cards his opponent held. Even if it meant kneeling and begging, he had to secure a chance of survival for Vivianna, for the Hochberg family.
"Someone!"
His voice carried a tremor he himself did not notice.
The old butler immediately entered, startled to see his master looking so utterly distraught.
"Prepare the carriage! Ready the fastest land-vehicle!" Wolner stood up, the decisiveness befitting an Elector returning to his eyes.
"I'm going to Wasser Fief at once!"
"My lord, this... Should we not send word ahead first?" the butler asked hesitantly.
According to the etiquette between nobles, such a hasty visit was extremely discourteous.
Wolner heeded his butler's advice.
He walked to his desk and picked up a pen, only to find his hand was shaking violently.
He took a few deep breaths, forced himself to be calm, and wrote a short, personal letter.
The wording of the letter was utterly humble, stating only that he had long admired the new policies of Wasser Fief and hoped for an opportunity to consult with Lord Lacey in person.
He entrusted the letter to his most loyal guard, ordering him to proceed ahead at top speed and deliver it to Eisenwald.
It was a gesture, a clear sign that he came with no hostile intent.
...
A land-vehicle traveled steadily across the lands of Wasser Fief.
Wolner lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and looked out. The muddy country tracks he remembered had been replaced by smooth gravel roads.
On either side of the road, newly tilled fields were laid out in neat plots, stretching to the horizon.
Though the farmers working the fields were plainly dressed, their faces showed none of the numbness and sorrow he was used to seeing, but rather a kind of earnest vigor.
Occasionally, they passed through villages and towns where he could see brick houses under construction and public canteens with white smoke rising from their chimneys.
Painted on the walls in conspicuous red paint were imposing slogans he couldn't read: "Labor Creates All!" and "Members of the Workers' Party Are Never Afraid!".
All of this was utterly different from the hell on earth he had heard described by other nobles.
The place radiated a strict sense of order and vibrant life.
This made the unease in Wolner's heart grow even heavier. A ruler who could govern his fief in such a manner was no mere reckless brute of rumor.
The opponent he was about to face was far more formidable than he had ever imagined.
When the iconic tower of Eisenwald appeared on the horizon, Wolner's heart sank to the depths.
The land-vehicle passed through the city gates without being inspected, driving straight into the city.
His messenger had clearly arranged everything in advance.
When he arrived at the foot of the tower, a solemn-faced Workers' Party cadre in a green uniform was already waiting for him.
He wasted no words, simply giving a slight bow and a gesture to "please enter," before leading Wolner into the tower.
Wolner was led directly to the throne room.
He had imagined this scene countless times.
Lacey would be seated high upon the throne, surrounded by fierce-looking guards, forcing him to submit with blatant threats and humiliation.
However, the throne room was empty.
"Lord Lacey is attending to some official business. Please wait a moment." After speaking, the cadre who had led him in turned and left.
The great doors slowly closed behind him.
________________________________________
Get rewarded for helping with our community goals!
🚀 Tier Reward: Help us reach 10 members for +5 chapters on all stories!
👻 Join the crew by searching Ms. Medusa on (P). You know the spot! 😉