I visited Margrave Laufen’s castle for the first time in three months.
When I knocked on the office door, a low voice grunted, "Enter." On the desk, where documents had just been cleared away, sat a familiar amber bottle and a bottle of red wine. Two glasses were already waiting. As soon as Georg Laufen saw me, he raised a hand.
"Wilhelm. You’ve arrived. Sit."
"Efficient as always, I see."
"Yeah. It helps that I have a wife more competent than myself. Frede does half the work."
I settled into one of the reception chairs. Georg uncorked the amber bottle and poured a measure into his small glass. He slid the wine glass toward me. I wondered how many times we had met like this—once every three months—to cross-check our information. We had done it so often that even our choice of drinks had become a ritual.
"I’m drinking first."
"Go ahead."
I took a sip of the wine. Georg downed half his glass of distilled spirits in one go. It was a boisterous way to drink, very much in character for him.
It was just the right atmosphere to broach the main topic.
"How are things in Seltheim?" I asked, setting my glass down.
"The Expansionist Faction is gaining ground again."
"Again?"
"Three mid-tier nobles from the First Prince Faction declared their alignment as of last month. On the surface, it’s about trade interests, but in reality, they’re votes for territorial expansion. It didn’t help that one of the heavyweights of the Equilibrium Faction stepped down due to illness. They’ve put up a proxy, but he’s young and lacks backbone."
"The mastermind of the Expansionist Faction… Drachenburg?"
"There’s no doubt that man is pulling the strings. But he refuses to step into the light. He simply sits in the middle of the court with a smile on his face while he increases his number of pawns."
"A troublesome man," I replied curtly.
Georg swirled his glass lightly. "And yet, things are quiet on the border," he noted.
I raised an eyebrow. "Quiet?"
"The 'rats' are still coming in, same as always. We’re crushing them as they appear. But the army isn’t showing any sign of moving our way. There’s no movement of supplies."
Georg continued, "Stockpiling of grain, circulation of armaments, procurement of horses… it’s all standard for the time of year. Their autumn reserves are within the usual range. If a country of that size intends to go to war, the logistics always move first. They aren't moving."
"I see. So they have no intention of making a serious move right now."
"That’s the gist of it. Conversely, the moment those supplies start moving, we’ll know it’s for real. Until then, they’re likely focusing on solidifying their political grip."
"Seizing political control before beginning final preparations, then?"
"That’s the usual order of things. But as you know all too well, we can’t afford to be careless."
We both let out heavy sighs. It wasn't a pleasant conversation.
Georg drained his glass and refilled it. I took another sip of wine. I needed at least one more drink before changing the subject.
"And how is Lady Katia?"
"My Katia?" Georg leaned his elbows on the desk and pressed his palms to his forehead. "For a while, it was grim."
"I heard."
"When she was first returned to us after the kidnapping, she was like a different person. She completely withdrew. All she did was train. Even now, she frequently drags the Vice Leader out to go Rat Hunting. She’s an eleven-year-old girl, for heaven’s sake. Perhaps she inherited too much of my temperament, but I don’t know how it came to this…"
He sounded like he was grumbling, but his eyes weren't laughing. A father’s genuine bewilderment lay beneath his voice.
"But ever since Rein returned, she’s finally brightened up. Now it’s 'Rein this' and 'Rein that' until my ears ring."
"I see…"
"Once his treatment reached a stable point and I allowed her to visit, she’s been there every spare moment. Every time she comes home, she asks when I’ll permit the engagement. Lately, she’s been asking every single day."
I swallowed a mouthful of wine. A heavy heat rose to my temples, though not from the alcohol.
"Georg, I’m sorry."
"For what?"
"You gave me warning in advance, and yet… I still put Lady Katia in danger."
The reason Lady Katia had changed was my fault. If my guards hadn't been bypassed, Rein would never have been taken, and Katia would never have been traumatized.
Georg remained silent for a long time. Then, he shook his head.
"Stop it."
"But—"
"Speaking in hindsight, Katia is safe. I have no intention of blaming you." Georg’s voice was low and steady. "The reality is that my daughter came home. The one who paid the price was your son. I still can't thank that boy enough for what he did. So, we’ll call it even."
I nodded silently.
"By the way…" Georg’s expression turned bitter. I suspect mine did the same. "How is Rein? Truly."
"The treatment is finished. Thanks to the Saint’s power and Rein’s own resilience, his limbs, his eye, and even the scars on his skin have been restored. He’s currently focused on rehabilitating a body he hasn’t used in years. He’s practicing walking on his own. After that, he’ll move on to magic training."
"I see. So he’ll be able to walk again?"
"Yes. Slowly, but he’s making progress."
Georg stared at his desk, silent for a long moment. Then, he spoke with visible caution.
"Wilhelm. About the engagement."
"Yes."
"Because Katia is so insistent, I’ve given it serious thought. However… I can’t say I’m in favor of it right now."
I set my glass down. "Is it a question of whether he’ll fully recover?"
"That’s part of it." Georg nodded. "The other part is… whether he can father an heir."
A brief, heavy silence fell over the office. The remaining wine shivered in the bottom of my glass. Georg was one of the few who knew the truth. He knew roughly what that woman had done to Rein during the torture.
"Physically, he’s intact. The doctors have confirmed that much."
"But we don’t know the state of his mind, do we?"
"...No."
"We’ll know if his physical mobility is restored within a year or so. But his ability to produce an heir is still an unknown." Georg continued, "If I’m to marry Katia into your family, this is a hurdle we cannot ignore."
He was right.
Rein was the second son of the House of the Count. If he married Katia, he would be adopted into her family as a groom, receive a portion of land from House Laufen, and establish a new branch house—likely with the rank of Baron. Essentially, a Margrave's daughter would be entering a newly established branch.
"The end of a noble house with no heir is a miserable thing," Georg said darkly. "No one follows a house that is destined to die out. Retainers serve because they expect their children to serve the next generation. If a house cannot produce an heir, the vassals desert it. Beyond that, vultures among the relatives will move in to pick the carcass clean through forced adoptions. I won't put my daughter in a position like that."
It was a perfectly sound argument. I had no room for rebuttal.
Securing the bloodline is the fundamental responsibility of a noble.
To inherit a house is to pass the territory, the people, and all the duties associated with them to the next generation. A daughter who marries a man who cannot do that would be isolated, without loyal retainers, and left without a support system if her husband died. I couldn't judge this based solely on Rein’s personal happiness.
"Everything you’ve said is entirely reasonable," I admitted.
"I want Rein to have a happy family as much as you do. But I can't ignore these concerns just because our daughters are friends. Until we can confirm his functionality, I won't give my consent. Is that acceptable?"
"I apologize for the trouble."
"Don't. You’re speaking as a father should."
We both let out a breath. The weight of the conversation seemed to lift, if only slightly.
"But Wilhelm," Georg said, looking up. "How do we intend to confirm it?"
My hand stopped halfway to my glass. "Confirm it? How do you mean?"
"Well, we won't know if he functions until he actually… does it, right?"
"I suppose… if he grows up and shows no inclination toward such matters…"
"We’ll have to provide a sexual initiator for him. Should we find a noble widow? I can look for a young one if necessary."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "It’s a strange thing to say about one's own son, but Rein is bewitching. It would be a problem if the woman became too obsessed with him."
"Is it really that bad?"
"Think about Lady Katia. He hasn't even made his social debut, and there are already several girls in the same state as her."
"Good heavens, he’s a heartbreaker, then?"
"He is. That’s why we have to be very careful with the choice."
"A brothel is out of the question," Georg groaned. "If Katia found out I suggested it, she’d kill me."
"There shouldn't be a problem. We have a maid named Mira."
"Oh, I’ve heard that name from Katia. The one in charge of Rein?"
"She’s one of the ones I mentioned. If I asked Mira, she would accept the task with absolute joy. In terms of status, she’s the third daughter of a Baron’s house. Provided Lady Katia allows it, she could eventually serve as a concubine even after he marries. She’s five years his senior, which is ideal for leading him, and she’s quite beautiful. Most importantly, her loyalty to Rein is absolute."
"Then there’s no issue," Georg laughed lowly.
I found myself smiling as well. After such a heavy discussion, it felt as though we had finally landed on the kind of foolish talk typical of two aging fathers.
I wanted my son to have a happy home and to carry on his bloodline. For that, as both his father and his Count, I would make every possible arrangement. That, I supposed, was the true meaning of noble responsibility.
I finished my wine. It tasted a little better than it had moments ago.