Vierna’s soul felt ripped from its place. Her lips trembled, sweat pooling on her forehead. Albrecht’s drunken confession had struck her harder than she cared to admit.

  An orphan? She had thought the mansion, the vast library, the wealth surrounding him came from his family. Yet if his words were true, he had built it himself. Alone.

  Her chest tightened. She could almost see him as a boy, standing where she once had, with nothing but orders to follow and power to grasp. Perhaps they were not so different after all.

  She looked at Albrecht now. Sweat streaked his face, his brow drawn tight, his hands trembling as though left in a tundra on a snow-bitten night. The mighty Hauptmann, reduced to such a miserable state.

  I can’t leave him like this. He is my friend.

  The conclusion came easily. Helping Albrecht meant serving on two fronts. She would steady a comrade, and in doing so, preserve the strength of an officer of the Reich.

  This, too, was a place where she could serve.

  She walked toward the sofa and eased herself down. Carefully, she lifted Albrecht’s head and set it in her lap, brushing his damp hair back with slow, steady strokes.

  “Alecta… that you?” he whispered, the words slurring together.

  “Yes, Albie. It’s me.”

  “Why… why’d you do it?” His brow furrowed, eyes unfocused.

  She hesitated, then answered softly, “I’m sorry, Albie.”

  They stayed like that for a while, his breathing ragged, her hand moving gently across his brow.

  “Alecta?”

  “Yes, Albie?”

  “Tomorrow… we should… see someone. A… mind healer. They’ll… fix your… head.” His voice caught, broke, then drifted to a whisper. “Make you better.”

  “Yes, Albie. We will.”

  “I’m sorry…” His lips trembled. “Sorry I… couldn’t stop it.”

  “I’m sorry too,” Vierna murmured, though the words felt foreign in her mouth.

  “Alecta… I just… I just want you… cured. You want… that too… Right?”

  “Yes, Albie. I want to be cured.”

  “Good… good…” His hand gripped her sleeve weakly. “Please… stay. Don’t go… don’t leave me again.”

  Vierna didn’t answer. She kept patting his head until the lines on his face eased, until the sweat dried and his breathing steadied. It was as if Alecta really was there, just as Albrecht wished.

  After Albrecht finally sank into deep sleep, Vierna gently lifted his head from her lap and rose from the chair. She brushed at her clothes and straightened her pants, glancing once more at him on the sofa. She hopes that what she did help Albrecht in some way, maybe just gave him a good night sleep.

  She turned toward the main entrance. The mansion was quiet, the lamps casting their dim glow across the polished halls. Just as she reached for the door, a voice called softly behind her.

  “Frau Vierna.”

  She turned. Strau, the old butler who had once healed her wounds, stood in the shadows of the corridor.

  “It is late already,” he said. “Will you not stay the night?”

  Vierna shook her head. “I would love to, but I cannot. Tomorrow there is another procedure, and Herr Halwen told me to return tonight.”

  Strau inclined his head. “In that case, I will accompany you. I am certain Herr Albrecht would understand.”

  Seeing no reason to refuse, Vierna gave a small nod. Together, she and the old butler stepped out into the cool night air.

  “Apologies for not being able to provide you with a stagecoach, miss,” Strau said as they stepped outside. “Since there was no confirmation from Herr Albrecht, I could not make arrangements. He can be a bit… controlling, you see, when it comes to matters like this.”

  “No worry, Herr Strau. I am fine with walking.”

  They crossed the courtyard together, the night air cool against their faces. Einhartturm looked different beneath the moon. The silver marble of its grand avenues no longer gleamed with daylight brilliance; instead, the stone seemed subdued, softened, as if the night had draped the city in a quiet blanket, preparing it for tomorrow.

  Yet the city was far from asleep. Light and laughter spilled from taverns and bars that lined the side streets, their doors wide open to patrons who drank and argued well into the night. Music drifted on the wind, mingling with the distant clatter of dice and tankards.

  Leopold, it seemed, allowed the citizens a measure of freedom, provided it caused no disorder. Perhaps this was his way of keeping the city’s morale alive.

  However, the bustle of Einhartturm’s nightlife failed to distract Vierna from the elephant in the room. Strau had clearly been with Albrecht for a long time. She tried to keep her mouth shut, but curiosity was something she never could suppress.

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  “Herr Strau, may I ask you something?”

  “By all means, Fr?ulein Vierna,” Strau replied with a polite smile.

  “Who is Alecta?”

  The name seemed to strike like a blade. Strau’s smile vanished at once, his expression tightening. A flicker of worry crossed his eyes, so sharp it unsettled her.

  “Miss Vierna… where did you hear that name?” His voice had lost all warmth.

  It felt as though she had spoken a taboo, plunging straight into a subject forbidden within Albrecht’s household.

  “I’m just… worried about Albrecht,” Vierna said softly. “He sleep talked about her so much back then. I’m sorry, it’s not my place. Please forgive me.”

  Strau studied the fragile girl beside him. Perhaps this was Albrecht’s first true friend—closer even than Lisa. The stiffness in his shoulders slackened, and the severity in his eyes gentled as he spoke again.

  “Miss Vierna, Alecta was Herr Albrecht’s younger sister… They were very close.”

  Strau’s voice lowered. “Please pardon me, I cannot reveal more. Even Herr Albrecht avoids any talk of her. All I can say is that she was a poor, unfortunate girl. For his sake, I beg you, never bring up her name to him. It would only reopen the wound.”

  Vierna nodded faintly, though her chest tightened. It was true then—Alecta, the sister who had killed their parents, lingered like a shadow Albrecht could never escape.

  For all his strength, all his outward cheer, Albrecht was shackled to a wound no healer could mend.

  She hesitated before asking, “Then… tell me this at least. Is Albrecht usually drunk like that?”

  “No, Miss Vierna. Herr Albrecht enjoys wine, but he is no drunk. Tonight was… an anniversary. He needed more than usual, just to numb the pain.”

  Vierna glanced down at the cobblestones as they walked. Albrecht’s cheer and kindness, so constant in the daylight, seemed less like nature and more like a mask he forced himself to wear.

  “It’s strange,” she murmured aloud. “I never thought he’d carry something like this. He’s always so cheerful.”

  “Herr Albrecht tries his best to move on,” Strau said gently. “But the past drags at him. So please, Miss Vierna—forget what you heard. Speaking of Lady Alecta will only make him suffer more.”

  “…Understood, Herr Strau. Thank you.”

  But inside, she doubted she could ever forget the name now. Alecta. It was a key she did not yet know the lock for.

  Curiosity pricked her like a stubborn splinter. "But Herr Strau," Vierna asked, keeping her voice steady, "please forgive me… where is Lady Alecta now?"

  “Dead.”

  The word came heavy. Strau’s gaze dropped, his voice hollow, carrying the weight of something long buried. It wasn’t the anger of a man pushed too far, but the sorrow of one who had already mourned.

  “That’s why we don’t speak of her anymore,” he said quietly. “For us, she is gone.”

  Vierna read the finality in his tone. To push further would make her seem nothing but nosy, and the butler’s patience had its limits. She let the matter drop outwardly—but inside, certainty gnawed at her.

  She decided to change the subject. Leaving it there would only make things awkward later.

  “So, Herr Strau, how long have you served Albrecht?”

  The butler chuckled, and for the first time since the name Alecta was spoken, the heaviness in his face eased. His voice regained the steady warmth she knew. “Since Herr Albrecht was a baby. His parents once saved me, and from that day I swore to serve their family.”

  “I see,” Vierna said with a nod.

  She hesitated. She had always suspected, just from his name, but had never asked outright. Training and procedures had filled so much of her days that she had forgotten to ask the most basic thing about her friend.

  “This is a bit embarrassing,” she admitted, “but… is Herr Albrecht a noble?”

  Strau inclined his head. “Yes. He is von H?llstein, of the ruling family of the Schwarzhang Mountains.”

  Vierna had expected as much, yet hearing it spoken aloud still struck her. She leaned forward, eager to press further. Only a few hours earlier in the library she had pored over tomes on titles and bloodlines, but the pages left gaps she couldn’t fill alone. If she was to serve properly, she needed to understand at least a little of Reich politics.

  “But if his parents are already gone,” she pressed, “that means he is the sole heir to Schwarzhang Mountain. Shouldn’t he be there? Or is there another family member?”

  “No, there aren’t,” Strau said, his tone steady. “You’re very perceptive, Fraulien Vierna. Herr Albrecht is talented in magic, yes—but ruling a castle, especially one seated in the Schwarzhang Mountains, requires more than that. Management. Politics. Influence.”

  “If Herr Albrecht tried to rule Schwarzhang without Arkmarschall Leopold’s backing,” Strau continued, “the other Herz?ge would have descended on him at once. So a bargain was made: Herr Albrecht would stand as the figurehead of the mountain’s rule, but in truth, it is Arkmarschall Leopold who governs.”

  Strau’s words weighed on her. Vierna let her gaze drift across the quiet street as they walked, trying to piece it together.

  “But why place so much trust in the Arkmarschall?”

  “Because of Master Lucen,” Strau said softly. “He always told Albrecht it was Arkmarschall Leopold who stayed the Reich’s hand when the Draghul faced extermination. In truth, Herr Albrecht had little choice. Within the Reich, Herr Leopold was the only real ally the Draghul had, and most of their kind accepted that arrangement.”

  “But it still doesn’t explain why Herr Albrecht is here,” Vierna said. “Even as a figurehead, wouldn’t it make more sense for him to remain in Schwarzhang?”

  “You are correct in a way, but if Herr Albrecht stayed there, the other Herz?ge would surely send assassins. Einhartturm is firmly under Arkmarschall Leopold’s control, so the probability of rival spies operating here is minimal. In many ways, this city is the safest place for Herr Albrecht.”

  “But couldn’t Albrecht just kill those assassins?”

  “Yes,” Strau admitted, “but assassination is rarely done from the front. It could be poisoned food, a blade while he sleeps. To put it simply, if Herr Albrecht remained there, he would spend every day looking over his shoulder.”

  “Then who rules Schwarzhang now?”

  “Herr Leopold placed one of his aides there—a man he trusts completely. They communicate daily, sending orders and policies back and forth. And of course, every decision remains within Herr Albrecht’s knowledge.”

  Vierna nodded at the information. Knowing more about the politics of the Reich would surely serve her one day. She was also curious about the ancestral home of the Draghul: was it a dimly lit castle with black skies looming over it, like the stories usually said? She hoped an opportunity would come so she could go there.

  The pair continued talking as they walked. Nothing heavy; only anecdotes of Albrecht’s theatrical flair, his little habits, the kind of things that gave color to his life.

  Strau also said that despite his eccentricities, Albrecht had been a prodigy since childhood, mastering spells and feats that left even adults struggling. His parents spared no expense in nurturing him, determined to refine their one-of-a-kind son.

  After their deaths, Strau said with a wry smile, Albrecht grew notoriously stingy, except when it came to his hobbies. Weapons, art, books—those still emptied his pockets without hesitation.

  Everything else, however, he pinched as tightly as he could. Strau even thanked the living gods that Albrecht had risen to Hauptmann of the 3rd Division, since the position brought wealth enough to sustain him. The patronage granted by his mentorship, Strau added, was another reason the young master could afford his luxurious lifestyle.

  Before long, they reached the facility gates.

  “Thank you for accompanying me, Herr Strau,” Vierna said.

  “Likewise, Miss Vierna. Until tomorrow.”

  With a wave, Vierna slipped back into the facility, waiting for the next day’s procedure and training as though she hadn’t just learned that Albrecht’s sister had killed their parents.