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Chapter 04
“What?”
Had he failed to get proper sleep because he’d rushed back from urgent outside business at dawn yesterday?
Eanok wondered if he’d misheard and asked again.
He had expected a reaction like this.
Reginald carefully opened his mouth once more.
“There is a child who has arrived—golden-haired, with red eyes—the one we previously put out a warrant for.”
“Not that.”
“There was a disturbance at the castle gate.”
“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”
Eanok frowned as he grabbed Reginald by the tail of his evasive answer.
So be it. Reginald licked his lips and slowly parted them.
“He said he wishes to see you immediately, Your Grace. And that…”
Trailing off, Reginald rolled his eyes before letting out the words in a very small voice.
“…he asked you to teach him the secret to ruining a noble house.”
“Even if you say it that quietly, I can hear you.”
“Ahem.”
“Hah—.”
Eanok let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair.
A deep sigh from Eanok—who rarely showed his emotions—bored straight into Reginald’s ears.
Everyone has their own reverse scale.
For Eanok, being the master of a house in decline was both his weakness and his reverse scale—especially the fact that he had failed to restore it.
In other words, he reacted fiercely whenever someone questioned his competence.
And it wasn’t without reason. Eisenbold’s current state wasn’t the fault of its descendants.
There was no money, no remaining resources. Worse still, even what little property they had left had been taken and squandered by collateral branches….
The fact that Eisenbold had survived this long at all was thanks to Eanok.
Even so, whether sooner or later, the house’s downfall was inevitable.
Whether it would be next year or ten years from now was the only difference.
“Your Grace. I believe it would be best to send that child away.”
Eanok looked quietly at Reginald with dry eyes.
“He’s completely different from those who have claimed to be direct descendants until now. He has neither dignity nor manners.”
“……”
“Even if he grew up unaware that he was an Eisenbold, blood and lineage don’t simply vanish. A true direct descendant of the noble and honorable House of Eisenbold—one who understands honor and etiquette—would never make such vulgar remarks. Therefore—”
“Which is precisely why I should meet him, shouldn’t I?”
“…Pardon?”
Eanok pushed his chair back and stood, looking at Reginald’s blank face.
As Reginald narrowed his eyes, Eanok picked up the coat draped over the chair.
“Everyone who’s claimed to be a direct descendant so far observed noble etiquette. As if they’d been taught what to say.”
“Well…”
“No matter how far we’ve fallen, the name itself hasn’t disappeared. You know what kind of value that name still holds.”
There was no need to say more. Eisenbold was the foundation and tradition of the Empire.
Though fallen now, the meaning carried by its name had not vanished.
That was why so many had once offered enormous sums just to buy the Eisenbold name.
Most of them were newly rich war profiteers or low-ranking nobles with nothing but money.
“So that’s why you sent all the previous ones away.”
Having grasped Eanok’s deeper intent, Reginald bowed his head. Eanok, now wearing his coat, jerked his chin.
“Did you take him to the reception room?”
“Well… when we suggested it, he said he didn’t want to and just wandered off. We assigned servants and guards to him, so he shouldn’t cause trouble. I’ll have him brought to the reception room shortly.”
“……Rude words and arrogant behavior.”
As if this castle were his own.
Eanok frowned slightly, gathered his thoughts for a moment, then started walking.
“I’ll go myself.”
“But—”
“He must have something he’s relying on to act that way. Even if the house’s standing isn’t what it used to be, causing a scene in the Eisenbold main castle means he must have something to back him up. But if he doesn’t—if it’s just empty bravado…”
Eanok spoke with a cold expression.
“He’ll learn what price that kind of behavior carries.”
Those are the Eisenbold wolves?
The knights spread out before Cleora’s eyes could hardly be called knights.
In the past, people had likened the knights of House Eisenbold to wolves.
Those who charged through enemy lines with swords in hand were called black wolves; those clad in white cloaks, a knightly order that never allowed enemy intrusion, were called white wolves.
Together, the two orders were the symbol of House Eisenbold—the very pinnacle of martial might.
But what was this sorry sight now?
Sluggish swordplay, powerless movements. Their lifeless eyes looked more like those of street vagrants than knights.
Even the training ground was dried out, cracked and barren.
Cleora had never imagined in her life that Eisenbold would fall to this state.
Is this what you wanted me to see, Keleagos?
During the five days it took her to get here, she had thought deeply about why she had been brought back to life.
Cleora believed her resurrection must have come with a purpose, some mission given to her.
But the Eisenbold she now faced was enough to tear that belief out by the roots.
“Um… hey.”
The one who cautiously called out to Cleora, who had been biting her lip while staring at the knights, was Adrian.
As Cleora’s red eyes slowly shifted, Adrian forced an awkward smile.
“I came along without really thinking, but let’s make one thing absolutely clear. I want it clearly stated that the mercenary corps bears no responsibility whatsoever for anything you say or do.”
“……”
“You understand, right?”
With a mercenary band he’d built over twenty-five years at risk of disappearing overnight, Adrian was doing the best he could to protect himself.
Cleora looked at him in silence, then turned her head away.
Adrian followed her gaze and turned as well.
An empty, silent corridor. What was she looking at?
As he scratched his brow and focused his eyes, a man with deep green eyes appeared—as if he’d been waiting.
It was Eanok.
“Ah…”
Cleora stared at him without a word, her gaze sharp and piercing as it ran him up and down.
…At least he’s decent.
Broad shoulders set just right, a well-balanced physique. His upper body didn’t waver as he walked, meaning his lower body supported him solidly.
Even beneath his coat, his developed muscles were apparent, and his thick wrists—slightly exposed—testified to years spent wielding a sword.
And most decisively, the two wolves embroidered on his coat.
The head of the house?
She’d heard he was in his forties, but he looked closer to his early thirties.
As the distance between them closed, Cleora’s neck tilted slightly upward.
She took a step back as her line of sight rose.
Eanok stopped at a proper distance and looked at her in silence.
For a brief moment, silence fell as their gazes met and crossed—
raw, unfiltered looks, as if they were probing each other.
Eanok studied Cleora’s eyes for a moment, then tilted his head slightly.
“Are you the one who asked to see me?”
“Are you the head of the house?”
When Cleora spoke, everyone there except Eanok looked utterly shocked.
Answering a question with another question.
And not just any question—addressing him as “you.”
No matter how far the house had fallen, it was still a ducal family. “You” was not a form of address fitting for him.
“Th-tha—that is…! What—!”
Adrian, who had been standing behind them with his mouth agape, tried to say something, but the murderous atmosphere forced him to clamp his lips shut.
The others, too, lowered their heads, thinking they might see blood if they spoke out of turn.
“Then?”
“Oh.”
Letting out a short sound of affirmation, Cleora smirked slightly and turned her body a bit.
Eanok’s gaze left her and settled on the training grounds standing directly before them.
“So—what do you think?”
