"You mentioned in the letter about merchant associations tied to Counts and Earls in the duchy," Father said, voice steady, eyes scanning mine. "Did the assassins reveal any such information?"
I shook my head.
"No, Father. The assassins haven't been caught yet. The investigation is still ongoing… it's been three days since the incident."
He leaned back slightly, one hand resting armrest of his chair. His gaze didn't waver.
"Then why do you suspect it's the nobles within the duchy and not Griffinvale?"
Griffinvale?
"With all due respect, Father… what would Griffinvale gain from killing me?" I tilted my head slightly. "If anything, letting me live and take over is far more damaging to Falcon Duchy. I'm the incompetent heir, remember?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"…Wow. You do have a very flattering evaluation of yourself."
The sarcasm!
"That's not my evaluation, Father. I'm simply putting myself in their shoes. Strategic empathy, if you will."
He smirked at that and leaned back fully into his seat, arms crossed loosely.
"Then let me ask, why are you so certain it's an internal problem?"
"Because," I said, straightening, "the reason the Gyrfalds were given this duchy in the first place is due to your achievements and our family's contribution to the Empire."
That got his full attention.
"In other words, the duchy isn't passed down because of blood alone. It's not some ancestral right like a common noble house clinging to their estates. Duchies like ours… they're appointed based on merit. Granted only to those the Empire considers valuable enough to trust with an entire region."
I paused, choosing my words carefully.
"And duchies can't be created out of thin air.. unless it's land won through war. Like in your case."
That earned a faint nod from him. Good, I wasn't talking nonsense yet.
"But while the duchy itself can't be created again, the heir can be replaced. Not by sword or rebellion… but by decree. The Emperor can appoint someone else if they're considered a better candidate. A replacement."
Now came the fun part. The twist in the plot that felt a little too personal.
"But," I continued, "you're far too important for anyone to try that. No one in their right mind would go against the Empire's war hero, Everard Gyrfald."
He didn't smile at that, but I noticed the subtle shift in posture, he was listening more carefully now.
"So… instead of trying to replace the heir, they remove him entirely. Create a vacancy. Then they petition the Emperor to run as a candidate for the position. With enough support, a few forged accomplishments, and the right noble alliances…" I shrugged. "Suddenly, it's a different story altogether."
I didn't say it aloud, but the silent part of that story was simple: they don't need to replace me when I'm dead. They just need to make sure the next heir isn't someone you pick.
And from the way Everard's expression didn't change, I suspected he'd already thought of that too.
His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice low and clear.
"You might have already guessed it… the reason I'm here is because I suspected an assassination attempt was going to happen here. What I didn't expect was for it to happen in the mansion itself."
He paused. I stayed quiet, letting him continue.
"The reason's the same as why I had to leave for Glimmerforge. We had information that an unusual quantity of armory and weaponry were being ordered by Count Vensar."
Count Vensar… I kept my face unreadable. I'd heard the name tossed around, but nothing concrete.
"At first, I dismissed it," Everard went on. "After all, it was Count Vensar placing the order. But on closer inspection, we started suspecting Marquis Velmont's hand behind it. He's never taken it well that I became the Duke, especially after I served under him during the border conflict with Zerathene."
So that's where this leads.
I absorbed it all, quietly piecing the picture together in my head. Then I asked, "You 'suspect' Velmont. So there are still things you don't understand about his intentions?"
Everard turned his gaze toward me. "What do you think, Hugo? You think this is enough for me to bang on his door?"
I shook my head slightly. "No, Father. There's still the fact that he gave the contract to Glimmerforge instead of outsourcing to someone more removed. Like Griffinvale's."
Everard raised a brow. "Maybe it was the import-export charges in Griffinvale?"
I gave him a look. "For a Marquis? Over a single contract? Good joke, Father."
He smirked. "Then why do you think he didn't?"
I leaned forward. "Because, just like you suspected, this whole thing's a distraction. That's the first possibility. Something bigger is moving behind the scenes, and they want you preoccupied with Velmont's antics while it brews."
Everard nodded. "It's likely. I didn't think Velmont would have the guts to plan something close to a revolt."
"There's also a second possibility," I added. "Count Vensar is more ambitious than we realized. Maybe he's using the… well, gutless Marquis as a puppet. Promising him immunity from consequences while he reaps the benefits."
"Hm…" Everard mused, hand stroking his chin. "That's definitely possible. The Vensars have always been ambitious. But isn't the Count buttering up the Marquis, and the Marquis falling for it, a bit far-fetched?"
I nodded. "Yes, Father. The lower plausibility is why I marked it as the second possibility."
He let out a low grunt of agreement. "Also… Griffinvale's involvement can't be ignored. I heard they recently made contact with Ashen's mobile quarters in the capital. With... what's his name again… Rukhtar?"
Rukhtar? If he struggled to remember his name, he probably isn't important.
Then Everard continued, tone heavier now. "Just like the intelligence said, it's a gathering of captain- and commander-level personnel under Rukhtar's leadership."
I almost choked. Dude, what? Wait, what kind of intel unit does Falcon possess that they can find out about a private strategic gathering inside the capital? Am I underestimating Falcon's information web this whole time?
He went on, unfazed. "According to Rukhtar, their mission was to assassinate sixteen merchant association heads. Nine from the capital. Six from Falcon duchy."
I blinked. "…The commission came from Griffinvale?"
He nodded. "Yes. The nine from the capital are those we took loans from.. to establish forest quarter zones for retailers. And among the six from Falcon, four are from the associations your mother signed contracts with for the salted pork units."
"And the other two?" I asked, already guessing.
"They're the ones your mother entrusted with the contract for your… what did you call it... 'secret stove production' or something?"
I nodded slowly. "If they'd succeeded, the blow would've been devastating. All the money we spent purchasing from Tenjiku and Leon Duchy… wasted."
"Exactly," he said, his tone more clipped now. "We missed a massive collapse by a blink."
I looked up, let the emotion drop from my voice entirely.
"The stove production technology… it auto-raises coal demand and creates a feedback cycle in mining, distribution, and home-use sectors. It's my most significant step toward local economic expansion. How is the castle so ignorant of where this information went?"
For a second, just a second.. his eyes widened.
Then he let out a quiet "Hah," and composed himself.
"I believe," he said, "that the information leaked at multiple stages. Somewhere between drafting and merchant delivery. I've already written to Wulfric, asking him to trace where the breach is happening. If it's leaking at the merchant association level… then we've got rats in every corner. We can't use the old method of 'trust' to allocate contracts anymore."
I nodded. "Father… within four months, I plan to flood the Elvian market with salted pork. Once the prices drop, we buy them all back, hoard them for a quarter, and then artificially raise demand before our competitors catch on."
I leaned in, deadly serious now. "I'm going to be the star supplier. But it only works if the competitors in the Elvian market don't get wind of the plan. Can you solve the leak quickly, or should I return to the castle and handle it myself?"
Father looked at me, stunned for a breath. Then he let out a booming laugh that echoed in the room like thunder.
"Hugo, you seem to be in an off mood today with all that happened," Father said, his voice finally softening, even if just a fraction. "I should have let you rest first. We'll talk more tomorrow… when we go to meet the old witch I knew. You're coming with me, then. You are dismissed."
Off mood, huh?
I kept my face straight.
I bowed deep.
"Excuse me, Father," I said with practiced grace, trying not to sound like someone mentally reviewing every word he just said to the most dangerous man in the Empire.
Then I turned and left the room, not quite rushing, but not risking a second longer than necessary either.
It was a miracle I wasn't thrown through a window, after the way I spoke to the Duke.
I must be insane.
I headed straight to where Clara was being treated.
I figured I'd check in on her before calling it a night.
Seemed like the least insane thing to do.