Chapter 75
Narthas, summoned by Jonas, entered the office.
“ Narthas.”
“Yes, Father.”
Unlike Narthas, who walked in with a hardened face, Jonas’s expression was unusually gentle.
Always buried in paperwork, Jonas, for once, lifted his head and welcomed his son warmly.
“It must be disappointing that the swordsmanship tournament was cut short.”
“It’s fine.”
Narthas answered politely, though a question stirred in his mind.
Since the cancellation of the tournament, Jonas hadn’t called for him even once. Yet suddenly, today, he summoned Narthas.
Why bring up the tournament out of nowhere?
It could have been small talk, but the Jonas Narthas knew never spoke meaningless words.
“If Phaedon Ranschtein hadn’t collapsed, do you think you would have won that tournament?”
“Of course.”
Jonas stared at Narthas for a long moment, then softly curled his lips into a smile. It was a warm smile, one Narthas had never seen on him before.
“Indeed. You are a Nürenbern.”
Narthas’s eyes widened. A moment ago, he had been wary of his father, but now his lips trembled, and he wetted his dry mouth in disbelief.
“That’s enough. A Nürenbern must always stand at the top.”
“Are you… truly saying you believe in me?”
“Yes.”
As Jonas’s eyes softened, light returned to Narthas’s green eyes.
Finally… finally, he’s acknowledged me!
Overcome with emotion, Narthas’s throat tightened.
Lately, he had been deeply anxious. Though it wasn’t his fault, the canceled tournament had soured Jonas’s mood. Worse, he had lost the chance to prove his worth, leaving him restless.
“The Nürenbern name was built by me. But the one who must protect it from now on is you.”
Jonas rose from his seat and stepped toward him. Narthas’s eyes widened again at the unexpected gesture.
“Those who betrayed the Nürenbern have started a newspaper. They call it a ‘commoners’ press.’”
Jonas handed him a paper.
Commoners’ Press, ‘Roembek News’ Publishes Its First Issue.
“‘Roembek News’… you mean?”
“Yes. Their little ‘cause’ of writing for commoners doesn’t matter. But the Emperor is another matter.”
Jonas frowned and walked to the window. Narthas’s eyes followed him as he scanned the article.
“As if commoners are worth anything. Tch.”
Jonas clicked his tongue and turned back.
“I’ll eliminate the current threats to Nürenbern. You must move for the sake of the next generation.”
Gulp.
The sudden shift to a commanding, oppressive air made Narthas’s throat bob nervously. Jonas’s sharp gaze was so fierce it felt like moving even slightly would cut him down.
“Marry Christina de Calatos.”
“The former princess?”
“Yes. Nothing stands above Nürenbern. Not even the imperial family.”
Jonas’s green eyes, darker than Narthas’s but unmistakably similar, glinted coldly.
“Move quickly!”
“Everything must be relocated today!”
Behind a large rock, Kalos crouched low, watching the workers.
He had been camping for a week.
Baron had asked him to collect Stiph, a plant found along the border between Emden and Rheinland. But since it was scarce, gathering enough took time.
Luckily, Kalos had stumbled upon a patch of it near the southern border today. Just as he was about to collect it and return to Ludiana, he heard men’s voices and instinctively hid.
“Hey, over here! Bring the cart!”
Soon, footsteps approached the rock.
“Why are we suddenly ordered to move all this?”
“How should I know? Who can understand the whims of nobles?”
“Still, they say this stuff makes you feel real strong, huh?”
Their laughter drew closer.
Kalos pressed himself deeper under the rock, hand resting on his sword hilt. If discovered, he planned to knock them out and escape.
“Hurry up!”
“Fine, fine.”
Fortunately, the men only retrieved the cart and left. Once their footsteps faded, Kalos peeked out again.
So this wasn’t a wild patch… but a cultivation site?
At first glance, it looked like a natural cluster, but closer inspection showed the plants lined neatly in rows, clearly tended. The boundaries were too precise to be natural.
Yet Baron had told him no farms in the Empire cultivated Stiph.
And then—
Mercenaries?
The men harvesting the plants weren’t dressed like farmers. They carried daggers on their belts and wore gear closer to armor than work clothes.
Mercenaries farming Stiph in a remote area? The combination was baffling.
Just then, a knight approached on horseback, the blue wolf of Ranschtein emblazoned on his chest.
“Why haven’t you left yet?”
“W-we’re just about to, sir!”
The leader of the men bowed low. The knight scowled.
“Didn’t the young lord say everything must be moved by today?”
“Yes, sir, we’ll leave immediately!”
At his bark, the mercenaries scrambled to obey.
Watching them, Kalos’s thoughts tangled.
“The attempted poisoning… it really is tied to Emden.”
From Nelson’s records, Ludiana suspected Nürenbern was behind the incident. Kalos had agreed, but they had lacked proof.
Then Baron had told him:
“Kalos, I think this drug was made using a plant called Stiph. Bring me some to confirm.”
Kalos thought finding Stiph would finally reveal Nürenbern’s hand. But things were more complicated.
Why were Ranschtein knights overseeing mercenaries who cultivated it?
Something’s wrong here.
Why mass-produce Stiph? And what exactly was Ranschtein doing with it?
He needed answers.
Looks like I’ll have to head into Ranschtein territory.
Kalos gathered a handful of Stiph into his bag and slipped away, keeping low.
Rheinland bustled with life.
Though smaller than the capital, its markets were as lively as the capital’s street stalls. The only difference was that here, proper shops outnumbered makeshift stands.
“Cheap! Cheap!”
“Young man! Need a room? Meals included!”
Wearing his hood low, Kalos walked through the crowd, frowning.
The streets felt familiar yet changed—it was near where he and his mother had lived after being cast out of the mansion. The surroundings stirred memories long buried.
Never thought I’d come back here.
Memories piled on memories, and Kalos shook his head violently. Now wasn’t the time to get sentimental.
The knight said ‘young lord’…
If the one in charge was the young lord of Ranschtein, then—
“Ferenzo.”
That had to be him.
Speaking the name he’d rather forget brought back the face of the boy who had tormented him relentlessly. More than fifteen years had passed, but the memory was vivid.
“Disgusting.”
He slipped into a narrow alley, leaned against a wall, and tore off his hood. His golden hair, bright like spun silk, spilled free.
Just then, footsteps approached from the corner he’d passed.
He pulled his hood back up quickly, head low, hand on his sword hilt.
The steps drew closer until a man carrying groceries turned the corner.
Startled, the man froze at the sight of the hooded figure against the wall. He tried to turn away quickly, wary—
“Lito?” Kalos’s surprised voice rang out.
The man stiffened mid-step, then slowly turned his head.
“You must be mistaken… Kalos, sir?!”
At first brusque, his eyes widened when he saw the handsome blond man beneath the hood.
“Why are you here, sir?”
“Baron asked me to collect Stiph. But one thing led to another, and I ended up here. But why are you here, Lito? Weren’t you supposed to be in Emden?”
At that, Lito gathered himself, scanning the area carefully before lowering his voice.
“Let’s talk inside. Follow me.”
Kalos nodded and followed him.
“This way.”
They reached a deserted alley. No shops, no houses—just one shabby, locked building.
“It isn’t much, but please excuse it.”
Lito unlocked the door and led him inside.
Once they were in, he explained why he was there.
“Nürenbern and Ranschtein… I’m certain both are involved in this incident.”
