[Volume 2 | Chapter 73: The Scholarly Duke]

The Wallachian Empire consumed the horizon.

Eichenstadt sprawled beneath a twilight sky painted in imperial violets and dying golds. Gothic spires and fortified mansions reached skyward like the desperate prayers of zealots. Unlike Windsor's marriage of function and natural harmony, the Wallachian capital embraced the idea of "contradiction," with brutalist fortress walls framing delicate stained glass, cobblestone streets winding beneath seemingly gravity-defying flying buttresses, and stern gargoyles leering down at meticulously maintained flower beds.

Every structure screamed of Catholicism twisted by the Great Corruption's aftermath, as if the architects had taken inspiration from a Bosch painting.

It was a vast contrast from the technological uniformity of the Tachyon Empire. Eichenstadt had grown organically around its three crowning monuments: the Imperial Palace with its thousand rooms, the Grand Cathedral whose spires pierced clouds, and Germania's Ducal Estate—where Pandora now stood, staring at wrought iron gates that promised answers and complications.

The capital city served as northern Europe's beating heart, drawing power from ancestral Ley Lines that predated even Rome's influence. Where Windsor represented humanity's defiance of nature through technology, Eichenstadt embodied its submission to forces greater than itself. A city of secularism versus a city of piety.

Pandora drew a long drag from her cigarette, watching smoke curl between her fingers before dissipating into Wallachian air.

Unfortunately, the nicotine did little to calm her nerves. A day in this foreign capital had yielded nothing but patronizing smiles and bureaucratic obstructions. The local investigators spoke of the Annerose Incident in hushed tones as if the methodical slaughter of twenty noble families was anything less than an atrocity.

"They should have begged Tachyon to send Lord Ainsworth instead."

She'd overheard an aide mutter that morning. The insult was barely concealed behind cupped hands.

William Ainsworth, the Divine Court's Number One, would certainly have commanded more respect than a 23-year-old ebony woman with Thalassian features, regardless of her rank or reputation.

Not that respect would have revealed anything useful.

The crime scenes had been sanitized so thoroughly. Witness statements contradicted physical evidence. Autopsy reports contained glaring omissions. Someone with considerable influence had ensured the investigation would spin in endless circles, generating paperwork but no conclusions.

Which was precisely what Pandora had anticipated.

She crushed the cigarette beneath her boot and watched the embers die against imported marble. Her formal High Inquisitor uniform felt restrictive after a day spent in the summer heat. It was her typical color scheme coat, matching trousers with a ceremonial sword at her hip, and the silver cloak that marked her as Judiciary, not Military. The regalia opened doors but also announced her presence from a hundred meters, which made information gathering pretty impossible.

27 hours in Eichenstadt, and all she had to show for it was an invitation to dine with the Duchy's ruler.

Erzherzog Wilhelm von Rosenwald.

The First Minister of the Imperial Chancellery and administrator of Germania stood as both the investigation's greatest obstacle and her actual reason for crossing imperial borders. The dinner invitation was given by a servant with a stone-cold face.

In the Wallachian Empire, breaking bread with nobility was a performance. The tradition predated even the Great Corruption, rooted in aristocratic customs where the dining table served as a negotiation ground. To refuse would signal distrust; to accept placed one temporarily under the protection of ancient hospitality laws. The meal would involve discussions of wine vintages, strategic use of cutlery, and conversations laden with meanings beneath meanings.

So, it wasn't that different from her normal interrogation sessions, to be honest.

The Ducal Estate rose before her like a small castle. The main house combined severe German brutalism with delicate French touches... hard angles softened by ornate balconies, defensive walls festooned with climbing roses. Like the empire itself, the structure married the pragmatism of the north with the artistry of the south.

The gates parted at her approach.

No security check, nor any identification request. They'd been expecting her.

Pandora paused at the massive oak door, reflection distorted in polished brass fixtures. Golden eyes stared back at her, carrying shadows she couldn't recall seeing before Windsor.

Before him.

"You needed someone to monitor me. You wanted to make sure the problem child doesn't wander off and ruin your precious plans."

Acacia's words haunted her.

The wounded rage in his eyes when she'd left him with Noelle.

"I've handled myself just fine before you came along! That's been my entire life! I've been handling things on my own because there was never anyone else! The moment I start to think maybe, just maybe I don't have to anymore, you pack a suitcase and hand me off to some... babbling idiot!"

The accusation that she never cared about him.

She should have explained better.

She should have made him understand.

But he had to stay in Windsor.

It was safer there. For him, for her, for the Empire.

How many times had she failed those who needed her?

Siegfried, consumed by guilt after Bianca's death, had turned to the darkness she couldn't save him from. Countless soldiers had died under her command during the Eastern Campaign, names etched into her memory like epitaphs. And Bianca…

Her fingers found another cigarette automatically, muscle memory overriding better judgment. No. Not here. Not now. She returned it to its case, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Yet... even she couldn't block out the question that tortured her endlessly the moment he took her hand on that fateful night in Ocarina.

What right did she have to care for a boy as wounded as Acacia, when she'd failed so many before?

The heavy door swung open before her knuckles could meet wood.

A man stood, silhouetted in the doorway.

Wilhelm von Rosenwald, Erzherzog of Germania, scholar administrator of the Wallachian Empire's most crucial territory, regarded her quietly.. Tall and lean, he carried himself as an academic rather than an Archduke. His soft brown hair fell in an almost casual curtain, and light brown eyes studied her through modest square-framed glasses.

The Scholarly Duke of Germania had arrived precisely on cue.

"High Inquisitor Kircheisen. Your reputation precedes you, though I suspect half of what they say about Mercutio is imperial exaggeration."

A modest accent, carefully crafted to soften his native Wallachian cadence, as he spoke the Tachyon Imperial Standard.

He already knows about my double identity. I suppose Lorelei would be too kind to conceal that from someone like him.

"And the other half?" she countered, arching an eyebrow.

Wilhelm offered a full smile.

"Woefully inadequate." He stepped aside with a gesture that invited rather than commanded. "Please, enter. Eichenstadt welcomes you, though I imagine our architectural... excesses must seem rather antiquated compared to Windsor's innovations."

She crossed the threshold, instantly noting the absence of servants in the entrance hall. Traditional protocol demanded a full receiving line for a foreign dignitary of her rank, especially from a household as prestigious as Rosenwald's. Their absence spoke volumes about the true nature of this meeting.

"I've dismissed the household staff for the evening," Wilhelm confirmed, reading her assessment. "My younger brother is away training, and I believe we might appreciate the privacy. Only the chef remains, and he is under strict instructions to depart after serving the main course."

The entrance hall opened into a grand atrium where white marble rose three stories to a glass dome that captured the dying sunlight. Bookshelves lined every wall, interrupted only by Renaissance paintings depicting scenes from classical mythology and Catholic history. A massive globe from the pre-Corruption era occupied the center of the room, continents marked with boundaries long since redrawn by thaumaturgical warfare.

"You have been investigating the Annerose Incident." Wilhelm did not ask; he stated as fact. "I imagine you've found our officials less than forthcoming."

Pandora did not bother denying it.

"That would be a diplomatic way of phrasing it." Pandora studied a nearby shelf, noting original texts from philosophers long banned in Tachyon territories. "Though, I'm curious why Germania's most powerful man would concern himself with my investigative frustrations."

Wilhelm laughed. It was a genuine sound lacking the calculated performance quality that characterized most noble birth.

"It is because... I respect your intelligence too much to pretend this visit is actually about Annerose. Shall we walk? I find movement conducive to honest conversation."

He gestured toward a corridor lined with illuminated manuscripts.

The hallway they entered branched into what appeared to be a private museum. Glass cases protected artifacts spanning centuries—primitive Regalias from the Early Reformation Period, military insignias from the First World War, and personal effects from figures long dead but not forgotten.

"The Wallachian approach to history differs fundamentally from Tachyon's. Where your empire embraces the radical reinvention of society after the Great Corruption, we've chosen to preserve continuity with the past. I would say that each approach has its merits and failings." Wilhelm explained, pausing beside a case containing a charred book with still-glowing pages.

"Preservation breeds stagnation," Pandora commented, studying the pulsing book. "Ein Sof Ohr manifestation?"

Wilhelm adjusted his glasses, genuinely pleased at her recognition.

"Very good. One of twelve surviving texts that continued writing themselves after the Convergence. This one recorded population movements during the first century post-Corruption, rather, the Era Virtiutis. It is invaluable for understanding how survivors reestablished civilization."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He guided her deeper into the collection. Each artifact seemed to represent a chapter in history, carefully preserved in the amber of time.

"You mentioned stagnation."

Wilhelm's tone remained conversational, though his eyes sharpened.

"Yet it is well known that innovation without an ethical framework produces monsters. The killer, let us call him Annerose for better clarity, demonstrated thaumaturgical brilliance, after all. Twenty synchronized deaths across Eichenstadt, each heart extracted, roses placed within the cavities—all without triggering a single alarm or leaving trace evidence."

"Almost as if someone with intimate knowledge of noble security protocols orchestrated it," Pandora observed, watching his reaction closely.

Wilhelm merely smiled sadly.

"Almost exactly so. It is precisely why the investigation will never succeed through conventional means."

He paused before a painting depicting the Biblical Fall—Adam and Eve reaching for knowledge while the serpent looked on with ancient eyes.

"The murder of twenty noble families would normally tear an empire apart. However, life in Eichenstadt continues virtually unchanged, save for heightened security and wilder rumors."

"Because someone wants it that way."

"Because everyone wants it that way. Our nobility fears acknowledging vulnerability in our Ducal House system. Our Church fears questioning divine protection. Our military fears admitting security failures. And ordinary citizens fear disrupting a peace that, while imperfect, seems preferable to chaos."

They emerged into a circular gallery overlooking formal gardens designed in classic Wallachian style. The last light of day caught crystal ponds and white stone fountains.

"Tell me, Pandora—may I call you Pandora?"

He waited for her slight nod before continuing.

"What do you see when you look at the empires?"

She considered the question, suspecting this was more than a casual conversation.

"Mirrors of each other. They're reflections of the same fundamental flaws."

"Yes... that's a fair answer. Four Great Hegemonies, each convinced that their approach to post-Corruption civilization represents the optimal solution. Tachyon embraces a meritocracy that elevates the gifted while oppressing the weak. Wallachia maintains Catholic tradition that provides stability while resisting necessary change. Sugoroku enforces collective harmony that enables cooperation while suppressing individuality. And finally, Hausa preserves ancestral wisdom, Islamic teachings, that honors the past while struggling with modernization."

Wilhelm turned from the garden view.

"Each empire is fundamentally flawed, and each is unwilling to acknowledge those flaws. So they jockey for power, exploit their neighbors, and construct ever taller walls to protect their illusions of superiority. It is nothing short of a perversion of humanity's potential."

He spoke with the fervor of a prophet, not a statesman.

"And you're different? As Erzherzog, you embody Wallachian power. What makes you immune to the same delusions?" she questioned.

To that, he laughed. "I never claimed immunity, only an awareness of the disease. I am no less compromised than any other player on the imperial stage. I simply seek different outcomes."

The Scholarly Duke gestured toward an unassuming door carved with symbols Pandora recognized as Kabbalistic protection wards.

"My private study. I think you'll find it more interesting than the public collection."

The room was beyond Pandora's expectations. Where noble studies typically showcased wealth and status, Wilhelm's workspace resembled an academic's sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves overflowed with texts from every historical period and discipline. Maps covered the walls with Ley Lines, population distributions, and resource concentrations. Three desks formed a triangle in the center, with each dedicated to different aspects of governance. One was for ducal responsibilities. Another for academic research surrounded by annotated texts, and a third for private correspondence featuring an encryption machine of unfamiliar design.

Most striking was the ceiling. It was a perfect recreation of the night sky, stars and constellations rendered in luminescent paint that shifted position in real-time.

A fully working astronomical model.

"You are wondering about the contradictions, is that correct, Pandora? The public Wilhelm, who maintains Wallachian traditions, versus the private scholar who questions imperial foundations. The dutiful administrator who enforces noble privilege versus the reformer who recognizes its inherent injustice. The loyal Erzherzog who serves Emperor Lothar versus the pragmatist who sees the empire's structural failures."

"I'm wondering why you're showing me this at all."

Wilhelm's smile turned rueful.

"Time is the one luxury we've run out of." He approached a cabinet concealed behind a rotating bookshelf, retrieving a bottle of crimson liquid that glowed faintly in the dimming light. "Lacrima Sanguinis—Blood Tears. A Wallachian delicacy produced exclusively by the House of Dracul. Would you care for a glass before dinner?"

"I prefer to keep my wits intact."

"It won't cloud your judgment—quite the opposite. The beverage temporarily enhances mental clarity while lowering emotional barriers. Perfect for conversations requiring both accuracy and honesty."

He poured a small measure into a crystal glass, the liquid moving with a viscosity that even made an alchemist like Pandora raise an eyebrow.

Pandora accepted the glass but didn't drink.

"Is that what we're having? An honest conversation?"

"I should hope so." Wilhelm's expression grew grave. "We have spent eighteen months exchanging coded messages, fabricating documentation, and arranging this meeting. Lorelei has placed extraordinary faith in my discretion, as I have in yours. The least we can offer each other now is honesty."

He checked his ornate pocket watch.

"The chef will have dinner prepared in approximately twelve minutes. Shall we move to the dining room?"

Pandora nodded, following him through another corridor lined with paintings depicting scenes from raw Wallachian history—unflinching representations of both triumphs and atrocities. Wilhelm pointed out details as they walked, his commentary revealing as much about him as the art itself.

"The Siege of Vienna, 117 E.V., where my ancestors first demonstrated the military applications of our Birthright. The locusts consumed the attacking forces' prana reserves, leaving them defenseless against any tactical counterattack. 70,000 dead in three days. Wallachia celebrates it as a victory for our holy hegemony. I see it as evidence of our capacity for slaughter."

They passed a portrait of what appeared to be Wilhelm's family. It had a stern-looking man and woman with serious expressions flanking two boys with identical brown hair.

"My father and mother died during World War III, commanding the northern defensive line against Sugoroku forces. My little brother Eden and I were quite young."

"I'm sorry," Pandora offered, the words inadequate but sincere.

"As am I for your losses." His gaze met hers empathetically. "Thalassia's flood left scars that time hasn't healed, I imagine."

The mention of her homeland in a Tachyon colony caught her off guard. Few people outside the Centrum Supremum knew her origins, and fewer still would reference them so directly.

She wouldn't allow any unnecessary emotions to cloud her judgment, so he deflected from the topic as immediately as it came up.

"War creates orphans of various kinds. Some lose families. Others lose homelands. The most unfortunate lose their very sense of purpose."

"Like Siegfried Eisenberg?"

He drew the blade.

But Pandora didn't blink.

"You seem remarkably well-informed about my personal connections, Erzherzog."

"Wilhelm, please. Information is both my responsibility and my particular talent. The Rosenwald ascension wasn't based solely on our Inherited Birthright, after all."

"I also assume the mass poisoning leading to the annihilation of the House of Eisenberg—forcing a young Siegfried to flee from Eichenstadt to the Canadian Colonies—was simply a 'coincidence' that opened the path for your House's political advancement?" Pandora asked, her tone casual but calculated.

Wilhelm tilted his head, acknowledging the hit.

"Seelenzehnt, the House of Rosenwald's Inherited Birthright, summons locusts from the Arcadian Realm to consume prana, correct? Prana poisoning is rather analogous to actual biological poisoning, with nearly identical symptoms, making it an excellent cover for assassination. Now, as the newly established Grand Ducal House of Germania, it becomes much easier to stage a serial killing like the Annerose Incident, especially when your investigators are instructed to bury the truth, or perhaps even actively participate in the cover-up. It's a pity that Siegfried was forced into exile, but I suppose his survival was simply another unfortunate loose end would eventually need snipping, wasn't it, Wilhelm?"

Wilhelm took a few seconds to answer.

"Your deductions are... impressive, though incomplete."

He moved to the sideboard where a crystal decanter caught firelight like trapped stars. His movements remained unhurried and measured—a man accustomed to navigating dangerous conversations with the same exactitude he'd apply to academic discourse.

The Scholarly Duke poured amber liquid into two glasses with steady hands.

"The House of Eisenberg's destruction was a tragedy. One that benefited my family, certainly. Poison implies something quick and targeted. Their elimination was neither."

"Elaborate."

"The Eisenbergs were victims of something far more insidious than mere political assassination."

Wilhelm returned with the glasses, offering one to Pandora. Plain brandy this time, not Blood Tears.

"They were sacrifices to the same force that later orchestrated Annerose—a force I've spent five years tracking through the shadows of our empire."

He settled into his chair.

"Consider this: if I had orchestrated their downfall, why wait until I was 24? Why not earlier, when inheritance laws would have favored my father instead of placing the burden directly on my shoulders? Why eliminate an entire bloodline when removing only the direct heirs would have sufficed?"

"Perhaps you're simply thorough." Pandora didn't touch the brandy. "Seelenzehnt manifests differently depending on the user. Your particular expression could easily masquerade as conventional poison."

"Indeed. It is a hypothesis many have entertained. However, it fails to account for one critical detail. The Eisenberg massacre occurred while I was verifiably in Madrid, negotiating trade agreements as a minor representative of the House of Rosenwald. The Imperial Chancellery maintains records of my whereabouts, confirmed by 17 independent witnesses, including three Thaumaturges with truth-detection capabilities."

He sipped his brandy, eyes never leaving hers.

"More damning to your theory: I actively petitioned against our house's elevation, arguing that the House of Danube held stronger historical claims to Germania. The records of my objections remain sealed in the imperial archives."

"A clever man builds his alibi before striking."

"A clever man wouldn't need to." Wilhelm set his glass down. "The true question is not whether I eliminated the Eisenbergs, but why someone needed them removed, and why the Annerose killings repeated that pattern with greater sophistication and theatrics. Both incidents share distinctive signatures when we cross-reference them. The methodical elimination of bloodlines rather than individuals, the absence of conventional evidence, and the peculiar fact that both occurred exactly 40 days before significant imperial policy changes."

The observation made Pandora pause.

40 days... the traditional period of meditation and contemplation in Wallachian Catholic practice before major decisions.

The timing couldn't be a coincidence.

"Then... a third party? One with access to imperial schedules and the capability to execute complex operations without detection?"

"I am suggesting moreso, that both our empires harbor forces operating beyond conventional oversight—forces that view noble bloodlines as pieces on a board rather than institutions to be preserved. The Eisenbergs died because they represented a particular political alliance that stood against certain... progressive policies. The House of Rosenwald's possible involvement is a red herring in a bigger script."

His lips curved in something not quite a smile.

"My subsequent elevation was a gambit taken by those who believed the obscure, scholarly Rosenwalds would prove easier to manipulate than the militaristic Eisenbergs. They miscalculated."

Pandora had to recalibrate her assessment.

"And Siegfried?" The question emerged softer than she'd intended.

"He was never the target."

Wilhelm's expression was riddled with guilt.

"The young heir happened to be away when the attack occurred. It was blind luck that saved his life, but shattered his world. By the time I learned of his survival, he had already become the Nemesis of the Third World War... as well as the Nemesis of the Bloodhounds."

The chef entered with impeccable timing, preventing further discussion as he arranged the first course of Wallachian delicacies.

"Will there be anything else, Erzherzog?"

"That will be all, Anton. Please leave the remaining courses as discussed."

The chef bowed slightly and departed. When the silence confirmed their privacy, Wilhelm continued as if the interruption had never occurred.

"I am aware of what happened to Mercutio, Minerva, and Nemesis after World War III."

Pandora's fingers tensed against the tablecloth.

"Bianca's death. Siegfried's descent into madness. Your masking of your identity, burying yourself in the Divine Court to escape the ghosts of the Northern Theater."

"You talk as if we're acquainted."

"We are, in the ways that matter. We have both lost families to forces beyond our control. We have also assumed responsibilities we never sought, and both recognized fundamental flaws in the systems we are sworn to uphold."

He lifted his glass in a subtle gesture.

"And we have both aligned ourselves with Lorelei Bismarck's vision for what could replace those systems."

The mention of Lorelei shifted the conversational temperature. Pandora took a deliberate bite of the terrine, using the moment to recalibrate once more.

"Yes, that's why I'm here."

"Fair enough."

Wilhelm set his glass down.

"Then perhaps we should speak plainly about Project AJAX and what it truly entails, beginning with the Aeterna Armamenta and your ward's connection to the «Red Key»."

What was discussed next, changed Pandora's whole world.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.