He couldn't give a proper answer. He simply could not declare, *You are precisely 'Wintergard.'* It wasn't a matter of pride, nor anything of that sort. It was even less a matter of propriety.
It was a matter of the heart.
His consideration might have, in some way, caused Daniela trouble. The name of the Grand Duchess was not something to be used carelessly. If anything, perhaps he had been the one thinking too lightly of it.
And yet he had never once thought the weight of the Wintergard name light enough to let anyone use it carelessly.
*"Is it not a question you cannot answer?"*
When Daniela had walked out, he hadn't stopped her. No — he had chosen not to. It was something even he needed to think through. What was it that he wanted to do with Daniela?
At first, he had taken her in as a guest. He had thought she might be of some use, in time.
The reason he had given her the Wintergard name — it was probably because he had felt such pity for the young lady cast out by House Barth. Probably. If that weren't the reason, then perhaps he and Daniela had both been quietly turning something over in their minds, from some point along the way.
"T-tonight, I shall have her lodged... lodged elsewhere."
"Do that."
"F-forgive my impertinence, but — did you quarrel?"
"Yes."
"D-did you truly quarrel, Your Grace?"
"I'm not sure. It's my problem."
Leo said nothing more. The night stretched long.
Everything had become tiresome. Since he couldn't let it show openly, he buried himself in work — giving feedback to the staff on their reports, pressing forward with one task after another. He made a deliberate effort to ignore the glances cast his way.
He entered the castle of House Barth that morning. He had gone in early, before the day had properly begun. There were those who came out to welcome him, though no great crowd had gathered.
"Let's go in."
Leo and the staff entered the castle ahead of him, and Theodor brought up the rear, moving at an unhurried pace. Daniela had already gone inside and was nowhere to be seen.
The castle was well-appointed, in its own way. He had heard that this was a domain where gold was mined even in the south, but it was less impressive than he had imagined.
"Where has Daniela gone?"
"I-I'm not entirely sure, Your Grace."
"Tell the guards to keep a close watch on her."
"Y-yes, Your Grace."
He gave Leo a brief word and followed where the staff led him. The first place they entered was the Golden Hall, the pride of House Barth. It was adorned with golden lion statues so brilliant they nearly hurt the eyes.
He had thought the Hall of Winter was well-appointed enough, but the standard of a place that actually mined gold was something else entirely. At the far end of the room, atop a dais of roughly four steps, stood a single chair.
Someone in elaborate dress stood to the side of the steps. Tall. A short beard. Blue eyes and neatly cropped golden hair. He recognized him at once as the Marquess of Barth.
Theodor followed the staff's guidance.
He climbed the steps and took the chair. It was the one with the higher rank who claimed the seat of honor — and that was none other than himself.
"We welcome the arrival of His Grace, the great Grand Duke of the North, Theodor Wintergard."
"Not at all. I am simply grateful to have been received more warmly than I anticipated."
"We are truly honored by your attendance at tonight's banquet. Had we known you would come in person, we ought to have prepared something far more splendid. I fear we may have committed an oversight."
"I, too, was cautious on the road, lest I commit one myself. Marquess."
The customary pleasantries. The guards of House Barth and his own took turns in a formal exchange ceremony — something that had apparently been arranged in advance.
In truth, the ceremony was meaningless. Ceremony for ceremony's sake, one might say. When the reception formalities concluded, Theodor rose from the chair and stepped outside.
A private audience with the Marquess of Barth. Private in name only — in practice, it was a meeting attended by staff and one guard commander apiece.
The sort of gathering where someone might even call it a clandestine negotiation.
"Thank you once again for making the journey, Your Grace."
"Never mind that. Let's set aside these pleasantries and speak of business."
He cut straight to the point. There was much they could have talked around, but there was far too much that needed to be settled going forward. He had originally intended to have Daniela present as well, to help work through it all.
He wasn't in the mood for that now. Business and personal matters ought to be kept separate — and the fact that he couldn't manage that was his own failing.
But then again, it meant he could focus all the more on the work at hand.
"The fact that you wished to see me suggests there is sufficient reason for it, does it not?"
"Indeed, Your Grace."
"Then tell me what that reason is."
He had heard news of House Barth, but the sense of crisis within the house was more acute than he had expected. The broken engagement had been a welcome development. But the blame for the broken engagement was gradually beginning to circle back toward House Barth itself.
House de Bosch. Under ordinary circumstances, they would have been an unremarkable, minor family — but they were making a significant leap forward on the back of this affair.
When rumors began to circulate that the ownership of the gold veins held by House Barth would be redistributed, rumors followed in their wake that House de Bosch had already been designated as the new owner.
House Barth's influence had grown ambiguous since the engagement was broken.
Ambiguous meant there was no longer anyone watching their back.
The power held by a marquessate was considerable. But the moment the Imperial house began to involve itself and various noble factions began to consolidate, a marquisate found itself with precious few places to turn.
They could form their own faction — but doing so risked antagonizing the Imperial house, and the gold veins would be forfeit.
And returning to the Imperial house's side was an invitation to be betrayed. That much was obvious.
They needed someone to watch their back. Ideally, someone with grounds the Imperial house could not easily dismiss.
"So I may take it that you would like me to be that someone?"
"Not precisely — though if it were to come to that..."
"I have little fondness for pretense, Marquess of Barth. I prefer to speak plainly."
"As you say, Your Grace."
Theodor gave a single nod. Of course, there was no simply seizing the Barth gold veins by force — several steps would be required.
Those steps needed to be obstructed. If they couldn't be stopped outright, then at least made difficult to surrender easily.
"There is some distance between here and the North, so I cannot claim my influence reaches this far in full. And the people of the Empire call us the 'Kingdom of Exiles,' do they not? Even so?"
"Even so, at this juncture, we have few options remaining to us."
"Then come find me again when we are the only option left."
When Theodor rose from his seat, Roland shot to his feet immediately. The staff followed suit, and the southerners appeared visibly flustered.
We have nothing to lose.
"My apologies, Your Grace. Please, hear us out once more."
"It seems you don't quite understand what it means that I came all this way."
He sat back down. With a thud — he settled into the chair in a sprawl, more draped across it than seated, his weight resting on his lower back. One arm hung loosely over the armrest; with his free hand, he tapped the table idly. Tap. Tap.
"That I came all this way — do you understand what that means?"
"I apologize, Your Grace."
"I live only in my own house. I don't know what travel is. When I go outside, there are too many irritating things. It gives me a headache."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"If word gets out that House Barth is drawing us in, even the Imperial house will find it no simple matter to overlook."
"We are prepared for that much."
Now, at last, it felt as though he had gained the upper hand. He had played the eccentric. Bluffed a little. He wasn't sure it had landed cleanly, but at least the conversation seemed to have shifted to his pace.
"Then let us be clear. How much do you need?"
"Hmm — I think it is less a matter of money, and more of something else."
"Soldiers?"
He had anticipated it. When House Barth stood alone, what they needed most was a sturdy shield to protect them. But if they began recruiting soldiers now, it would be conspicuous.
And then the noble factions and the Imperial house would move swiftly to cut House Barth out entirely.
In that case —
"Might I ask a little more of you, Your Grace?"
"I will hear it."
"What House Barth requires is the finest army on the continent — along with the resources the North possesses. Mastone, high-quality iron, swift horses, and so forth."
"I see. And what would we receive in return? The gold you hold?"
"That is correct."
It held no appeal.
"How long do you think you'll be able to hold onto those gold veins? If another house takes them, there will be nothing left to receive."
"And so... the arrangement we had in mind was..."
A division of sorts. House Barth would pay in full for the deployment of troops, while the cost of resources would be repaid indirectly over time. House Barth's proposal was, in a word,
utterly unappealing.
"Let me offer you a better idea."
"What would that be?"
"The North covers the full cost — and the ownership of the gold veins held by House Barth is divided precisely in half."
"T-that would be—"
"House Barth receives the guarantee of troops and resources from the North, and in exchange, splits ownership of the gold veins. Half of the gold produced goes to us."
Murmuring voices. This was precisely the point the staff had been deliberating over. In truth, it didn't much matter whether troops were deployed or resources exported. What mattered was the justification.
Something that gave the North a formal voice in House Barth's affairs and in the Empire — while maximizing northern influence.
And something House Barth could not refuse.
"That way, when the Imperial house moves to seize the ownership rights, we will automatically have grounds to speak up — will we not?"
"Is this some manner of riddle?"
"Exactly. If they strip House Barth of ownership, the North will begin asserting its claim."
But since they couldn't take everything from House Barth outright, they would have no choice but to examine the prior contracts. That would take considerable time. Seizing it by force would mean making an enemy of the North.
And they couldn't simply ignore the northern troops garrisoned in House Barth's territory, either.
Demand a share from what House Barth holds? The arithmetic wouldn't work from the start. We've been receiving half all along — and now you want us to accept only twenty-five percent? That was out of the question.
If the Imperial house transferred ownership while honoring the existing contracts, the northern army would find itself free to move about the south at will.
No noble would want that.
And if everything were declared void, they would have no choice but to make an enemy of the North once again.
Whatever they did, the North would have grounds to speak. House Barth, if nothing else, would have to buy time — because of its contract with the North.
"Of course, no one in their right mind would declare our contract entirely void and proceed with the transfer of ownership."
"....Indeed."
"Then let us proceed on those terms. What say you?"
The staff of House Barth murmured among themselves.
The rest would now be for them to decide.
But —
At the banquet soon to follow, a far better justification was about to be born.
One that neither House Barth nor the North could ignore — and that no faction, not even the Imperial house itself, could have anticipated.