Problems Everywhere

When Count Ranke returned to Cologne, he was surprised to find that the bustle of years past had been replaced by a heavy silence. The streets were sparsely populated, the shops closed early, and even the sounds of children playing had vanished.

The shadow of defeat wound around the royal capital like a vine. The nobles had retreated to their townhouses and estates, shutting their gates as they nursed the wounds inflicted by the Battle of Red Waterwheel Village.

Families who had lost loved ones hung black veils at their doors. The strips of cloth swayed in the wind, voicing a silent grief. Banquets and celebrations had disappeared, replaced by hushed conversations and endless mourning.

The air still reeked of defeat. Six months had passed, but the stench had yet to fade, leaving every corner suffused with a suffocating gloom.

Meanwhile, an even more unsettling rumor was quietly spreading through the streets and noble salons: His Majesty Rudolf, the King, seemed to have completely fallen apart.

Details about his constant drunkenness and neglect of state affairs trickled out from the servants. He often passed out in the garden late at night, bitten by mosquitoes until he looked like a spotted dog. He also occasionally summoned women of unknown origins and did terrible things with them.

As the stories passed from mouth to mouth, the details grew ever more certain—and sordid.

People whispered, their eyes meeting with suspicion and fear. Even the soldiers guarding the Royal Palace walked with their heads bowed and their feet dragging.

The man at the helm of the nation had let go at the most critical moment, adding a touch of despair to an atmosphere already weighed down by gloom.

Ranke felt as if an invisible hand were squeezing his throat. He could hardly breathe.

He