Chapter 15
Arnulf left the mansion in the late afternoon.
His destination was the meeting place Sieben had mentioned, but he wasn’t planning to go there straight away.
He had come out early because he wanted to stop by the bank first.
What he told Finn — that he would return to the duchy — wasn’t just an empty remark.
Ever since Sieben’s visit, Arnulf had made up his mind again.
He had to go back to the duchy as soon as possible.
But to do that, he needed to know how much money he had left.
And the answer he got from Finn was absurd.
“Money…?”
The moment Arnulf asked, Finn’s eyes darted everywhere.
That alone was enough for Arnulf to gauge the situation.
“You should try sending a letter to His Grace, the Grand Duke.”
That basically meant he didn’t have any money on hand.
Well, given Josef’s past behavior, it wasn’t like Arnulf expected there to be anything left anyway.
“But I’m not sure he’ll even send it.”
Finn added gloomily right after.
When Arnulf gave him a questioning look, Finn hesitated, mumbling awkwardly.
“The Grand Duke was… rather angry about the last incident.”
“The last incident?”
“Yes. The one involving you, Prince Arnulf. It’s fortunate Her Majesty the Queen covered it up. Otherwise, it could have caused an international scandal. The Grand Duke was furious but also worried.”
Finn shuddered at the memory.
The Grand Duke of Pomozain hadn’t come in person. Even between allied nations, such a visit required a long and complicated process.
Instead, he had sent Finn a long, furious letter.
At the beginning, before Josef had regained consciousness, the Grand Duke had politely asked for detailed updates on his son’s condition.
But after that, the letter turned into a rant — What on earth had he been doing there to cause such a disaster? — followed by a lecture to Finn, ordering him to keep Josef under control.
And what depressed Finn most was the final line: the Grand Duke declared he would cut off Josef’s funds so he couldn’t cause any more trouble.
“Ah.”
Arnulf quickly understood.
A prince of one nation had died, and a noble from another country — studying abroad, no less — had been involved.
No one could predict what political fallout that might bring.
Even if the Duchy of Pomozain was an ally, it still had to tread carefully around a greater power like Hessen.
It was only natural the Grand Duke would be furious.
“So, that means you don’t have any money right now?”
Arnulf asked for confirmation.
Finn’s expression darkened — which was as good as an answer.
Since he knew the Grand Duke wouldn’t send more money, he’d have to handle things himself.
That was why he’d left early.
The problem was, of all days, the bank was closed.
So he was on his way to the meeting empty-handed when—
“Josef.”
He ran straight into Sigmund in an alley — surrounded by thugs, no less.
“I thought someone was in trouble, so I came to check. Well then, I’ll be on my way…”
Arnulf greeted him awkwardly and took a step back.
Or tried to — until Sigmund strode toward him.
“Why are you here?”
The tone suggested suspicion — like he thought Arnulf had been following him.
Arnulf blinked and looked up at Sigmund.
“You don’t actually think I’ve been following you, do you?”
Sigmund’s brows furrowed. Arnulf looked incredulous.
“I told you, didn’t I? I’m done with that.”
“Done with that?”
“Yes. Believe it or not, I’m the type who keeps my word.”
“You?”
Sigmund looked at him as if to say Yeah, right.
Arnulf didn’t back down.
“Yes. I told you, I’m turning over a new leaf.”
Sigmund’s green eyes narrowed. Something about Arnulf’s tone and manner stirred a strange sense of familiarity.
But before he could think further—
“You bastards!”
One of the thugs, a scar-faced man, suddenly came to his senses and cursed loudly.
The others who had been knocked down glared at them, ready to attack again.
“Let’s take care of this first, shall we?”
Arnulf jerked his chin toward the glaring thugs.
Sigmund’s brow twitched in irritation, but he moved smoothly — deflecting an attack and landing a solid punch.
Even though it was two against many, the result was predictable.
No group of street thugs could take on two seasoned knights who’d seen real war.
Sigmund quickly dispatched the man attacking him, then stepped aside to watch Arnulf fight.
His movements were sharp and precise — redirecting blows and striking at weak points or joints with practiced efficiency.
Arnulf’s fighting style reminded Sigmund of someone.
When he realized who, Sigmund’s gaze turned unreadable.
“All done?”
Arnulf brushed back his disheveled hair after throwing the last thug to the ground, glancing at Sigmund.
Unlike Arnulf, who was rumpled and winded, Sigmund still looked immaculate.
Arnulf thought he’d built up some strength lately, but compared to Sigmund, he still had a long way to go.
“How do you know that technique?”
Sigmund’s tone was calm — too calm — but his eyes were cold.
“Huh?”
Arnulf blinked, not understanding.
“I said, how do you know that technique?”
Sigmund was clearly irritated.
The combat style Josef used was something he and Arnulf had developed together through years of real battle.
If someone hadn’t learned it directly from them, it was nearly impossible to imitate.
No wonder Sigmund’s thoughts were spinning in strange directions.
‘What’s he angry about now?’
Arnulf wondered.
He’d been fine a moment ago while they were fighting together.
Arnulf studied Sigmund’s suddenly frosty expression but couldn’t figure it out.
“Well, I just—”
“You’d better answer properly.”
Sigmund cut him off before he could evade the question.
Arnulf hesitated, then finally said,
“I’ve been in a lot of fights and, well, picked it up naturally.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie.
Arnulf had first conceived the basics of the technique while traveling with Sigmund across various battlefields.
Knights usually fought with swords, but there were always moments when you had to use your bare hands or feet.
He had refined it through those experiences — and from earlier wars he’d fought under Queen Luise’s orders.
“You picked it up in fights?”
Sigmund’s violet eyes glinted with disbelief.
“Yes. I tend to… get into a lot of scuffles, you know.”
It wasn’t wrong. You should know that, Arnulf thought as he looked at him.
“Really?”
Arnulf expected him to scoff, but instead, Sigmund just looked at him — eyes shadowed, lips parting as if to speak, then closing again.
Without another word, Sigmund walked past him and disappeared into the dark alley.
“What was that about…”
There had been something strangely meaningful in that look.
But asking about it would only stir up more trouble.
After a moment’s hesitation, Arnulf took the opposite alley, walking diagonally away.
When he emerged, he found himself in a bustling district.
Before long, he spotted the address written on the invitation — a large brick building.
“So this is it.”
It looked fancy and exclusive — the kind of place that screened its guests.
He’d expected a restaurant or tavern, so this was surprising.
Two doormen stood by the entrance.
“How may I help you, sir?”
When Arnulf approached, one of them blocked his path.
Instead of answering, Arnulf pulled the invitation from his pocket and handed it over.
The man unfolded it, read it, then nodded politely.
“Please go inside and take the corridor to your right.”
Arnulf retrieved the invitation and entered.
As he walked down the hall, he saw an open door ahead — voices coming from inside.
He stepped closer and found a spacious hall filled with several dozen people, each sitting around small tables in groups.
“Oh, Josef!”
Someone greeted him the moment he stepped in.
Arnulf turned his head.
A young man around his age was waving enthusiastically, smoke curling from his mouth as he exhaled lazily.
“Hey, Josef! You finally showed up.”
“You’re alive? Huh?”
Other voices joined in. Most of them were lounging with drinks in hand, something dangling from their lips — cigarettes or pipes.
Their eyes gleamed with low amusement and faint mockery.
‘Ah. So this is the kind of gathering it is.’
Arnulf immediately understood the nature of the group.
He could already imagine it, judging by the kind of company Josef used to keep.
“Josef, over here!”
The man who’d greeted him first got up and grabbed his arm.
Arnulf didn’t recognize him, and the smirk hanging off his lips looked anything but pleasant.
Arnulf almost shook him off, wondering if he should look for Sieben — the one who’d invited him — instead.
But then, a familiar face caught his eye.
‘Oh no. Sigmund.’
The same Sigmund who’d just left him in the alley with that cryptic expression.
Was the universe conspiring to make them run into each other?
Arnulf almost laughed at the thought.
‘Otherwise, it shouldn’t be possible to bump into him everywhere I go.’
He sighed inwardly.
“Hey! Took you long enough to show up!”
A cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts.
Arnulf turned — Sieben stood there, grinning widely.
“Perfect timing. Come on, this way.”
Arnulf stepped aside before Sieben could touch his arm.
Sieben raised a brow but didn’t seem to notice the subtle avoidance.
Arnulf, however, couldn’t stop glancing toward Sigmund — sitting motionless like a statue.
‘What’s he doing here?’
This wasn’t the kind of crowd Sigmund ever liked, or even tolerated.
“Let’s go.”
Sieben tapped Arnulf’s arm lightly.
Only then did Arnulf tear his gaze away from Sigmund and follow him deeper into the hall.
