Eliza's eighteenth birthday celebration was like a boulder thrown into a tranquil lake, stirring fresh, more complicated ripples in Leon's already turbulent heart.
In this world, eighteen held great significance for noblewomen. It marked their formal entry into high society and made them fully eligible for marriage. For Eliza and Leon, whose engagement had already been arranged, this coming-of-age celebration was undoubtedly the clearest prelude to their betrothal ceremony. Nearly every influential noble in the Imperial Capital would attend, along with representatives of the forces allied with the Windsor family, the Strauss family, and even the Hohenzollern family.
As the birthday celebration's guest of honor's fiancé, Leon von Hohenzollern was bound to be one of the evening's main attractions. Every word and action of his, along with the gift he presented, would be scrutinized under a magnifying glass and picked apart. This wasn't merely a matter of his personal reputation; it directly affected the standing of both the Hohenzollern and Windsor families.
"Impressive presentation... a gift..." Leon paced around his room, rubbing his still-aching shoulder and furrowing his brow. Captain Hans's "basic training" that afternoon had nearly wrung the last bit of strength out of him. Now waves of muscle soreness kept washing over him, reminding him of the harshness of reality. But heavier than his physical exhaustion was the pressure of the approaching coming-of-age celebration.
The original Leon had been a thoroughgoing hedonist, spending money without restraint. The Hohenzollern family gave him an enormous allowance of two hundred Gold Rolands a year—the equivalent of the annual income of a wealthy viscount's territory, enough to let him live in the utmost luxury in the Imperial Capital. Yet in the original Leon's hands, that money rarely lasted more than six months. He burned through it on parties, gambling, currying favor with mistresses (or trying to), and buying flashy, impractical luxuries. Later on, he often had to live on credit or write home to "ask for help."
Now, as the year drew to a close, the original Leon's "inheritance" had long since run dry. Two hundred Gold Rolands for a coming-of-age gift worthy of Eliza's status—and of her status as the Hohenzollerns' fiancée? He could probably barely afford the scraps left over from a decent piece of top-quality jewelry. And he still needed to have formalwear made, tip the servants, and perhaps cover some extra expenses to show his "sincerity" during the celebration.
"I don't have enough money..." Leon sighed, getting a taste of poverty—even if it was only poverty by the standards of the highest nobility. He went to the desk and opened a drawer. Inside lay only a few dozen Gold Rolands and a small pouch of silver coins, utterly out of place in the luxurious bedroom.
By the original Leon's habits, there was only one solution to this kind of "urgent" major expense: write home and ask for money.
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—he had a mother and an older brother who doted on him, as well as a father who, though disappointed in him, would still bail him out. And this time, he had an entirely legitimate, even "politically correct," reason: he needed a gift for his fiancée Eliza Windsor's coming-of-age celebration and pre-engagement banquet!
It was practically an airtight excuse. It would show how seriously the Hohenzollern family took the match and demonstrate his "deep affection" for his future wife. No one could find fault with it. Madame Sophia would surely feel sorry for her son and support him wholeheartedly. Though Karl was frustrated with his brother for not living up to his potential, he wouldn't hesitate when it came to protecting the family's reputation and his younger brother's marriage—even if his younger brother was a good-for-nothing. Even Marquis Otto wouldn't scrimp on money for a major event involving an alliance between two marquess families, lest people talk.
"Five hundred Gold Rolands..." Leon calculated. That would be enough to buy a magical accessory or work of art crafted by a master as the main gift, get himself a decent outfit, and still leave plenty over. The surplus... His eyes flickered. It could go toward his secret plans—buying basic magical materials, and perhaps picking up some second-rate but potentially useful magical notes or low-level meditation techniques through the black market or other obscure channels. The mana hidden within him needed guidance. Studying Fundamentals of Magical Mechanics in seclusion was too inefficient; he needed more practical "tools." Hans's training was the anvil that would temper his body, while magic was the blade he intended to keep concealed, a weapon capable of changing the balance of power. He had to hold on to both.
With that in mind, Leon didn't hesitate any longer. He went to the desk, spread out a sheet of expensive parchment, took up the ruby-encrusted quill—the original Leon's taste—and dipped it in ink.
Who should he write to?
If he wrote directly to his father, he would probably get a scolding and a grilling. The money would likely come in the end, but the process wouldn't be pleasant.
His mother? That was the safest choice. Madame Sophia almost never refused him, and she had a soft heart. A little complaining and pleading should be enough to get five hundred Gold Rolands.
But Leon's pen paused above the paper. He remembered how, despite his mother's indulgence, whenever he asked her for money—especially a large sum—she would grow teary-eyed with worry and lecture him endlessly. It would also alert his grandmother, and before long the whole family would know he was "wasting money" again. He would get the money, but the whole situation made him—Leon as he was now—uncomfortable.
Then... what about writing to his older brother, Karl?
The thought stirred something in Leon.
Karl von Hohenzollern: his flawless, dazzling older brother. A Sky Knight at only twenty-four, commander of the North Wind Knights, and the pride of the Northern Frontier. Karl's feelings toward Leon were complicated. He was stern with him for wasting his potential, yet also had the protective attitude of "Only I get to lecture my useless little brother." In the original Leon's memories, he hadn't asked Karl for money often, but though Karl had scolded him harshly each time, he had always sent the money in the end, adding something like, "Try to behave yourself," or, "Stop bringing shame on the family."
Asking Karl for money might not be pleasant—he'd get a scolding—but it would be efficient. It also wouldn't alert his mother or grandmother, making it a relatively "low-profile" choice. More importantly, deep down, Leon felt that maybe... just maybe, he might get something from Karl besides money. Even if it was only a disappointed remark showing that Karl still cared enough to keep him in line, it might make him feel a faint thread of "family" in this strange, cold world.
After weighing it all carefully, Leon made his decision. He took a deep breath and began to write, doing his best to imitate the original Leon's somewhat hurried, restless handwriting.
Dear Brother Karl,
A suitably proper opening.
I hope this letter finds you well.
All is well in the Imperial Capital. My aunt has been strict with me, but also kind. Eliza... well, she's doing well too, and her magical studies are progressing by the day.
A little groundwork first, to show that he was "keeping out of trouble."
I write to you today because I have an important request. Next month is Miss Eliza Windsor's eighteenth birthday celebration, which will also serve as a prelude to the betrothal ceremony between our families. This concerns the reputations of both the Hohenzollern and Windsor families, and I dare not neglect it.
Get to the point, and frame it as a matter of family honor.
However, I have been poor at managing my finances in recent years and have spent too freely. My purse is now empty. To prepare a gift worthy of Miss Windsor's status and befitting the honor of our Hohenzollern family, as well as to take care of the related arrangements, I will need a great deal. By my rough estimate, I will need at least five hundred Gold Rolands to manage.
State the amount directly, without beating around the bush.
I know you are guarding the Northern Frontier and have a great deal of military business to attend to, as well as expenses of your own. I wouldn't normally trouble you with such a trivial matter, but I fear my clumsy words might anger Father. As for Mother, I'm afraid she would worry too much. After giving it much thought, I realized you were the only one I could speak to frankly.
Explain why he was asking Karl for money, slip in a compliment, and imply that Karl was capable and understood the bigger picture.
I will be careful with these five hundred Gold Rolands and spend every last coin on matters related to the celebration. I wouldn't dare waste even the smallest amount. I hope you will lend a hand, considering the family's reputation and my predicament.
The Northern Frontier is bitterly cold, and the barbarians are fierce. Please take care of yourself, Brother, and may you win victory after victory.
Your brother, Leon
Respectfully yours
Late Frostmoon, Year 379 of the Imperial Calendar
After finishing the letter, Leon read it over carefully. His tone struck a balance between supplication and the bluntness of a brother. His reasons were sound and completely above reproach. He had even expressed concern for his brother's safety, though it was mostly formulaic. Overall, it fit the original Leon's scoundrel logic of "I know I'm in the wrong, but I still want money and think you should give it to me"—only toned down a little, so it wasn't quite as irritating.
He let the ink dry, then carefully sealed the letter with the Hohenzollern family's wax seal. All that remained was to send this "letter asking for money" to the Northern Frontier through the Count's Mansion's channels, by urgent magical communication or courier.
When it was done, Leon leaned back in his chair, but felt little relief. Relying on his family to "keep him afloat" didn't feel good, especially when he was determined to change. It was more like a cruel reminder of how helpless and dependent he still was.
"Five hundred Gold Rolands..." he murmured. This money was the first step in carrying out his plan. The gift for Eliza had to be valuable enough; it was a necessary investment to maintain his image and avoid suspicion. The rest would serve as seed money for secretly exploring the path of magic. He needed to master some practical magical techniques as soon as possible. Even the lowest-level cantrip might prove useful at a critical moment. After all, Victor's scrutinizing gaze and the potential challenges at the coming-of-age celebration both hung over him like swords.
He went to the window and gazed at the glimmering spire of the Magic Tower in the distance, lit by the setting sun. Eliza was probably there now, training hard. Her brother Victor, so protective of his sister, was likely busy with preparations for her birthday celebration as well. Everyone was moving along their own paths. And he, the "fiancé" who seemed to be at the center of the maelstrom, had to quietly and carefully weave a completely different path in secret. The birthday celebration would be the first public test he had to face. He needed to think carefully about what else he should prepare besides money, so he wouldn't fare too badly at the celebration—one that was sure to be anything but peaceful. Perhaps he could even find an opportunity of his own.
He had reached out to his family for help. Next, he would have to find something truly reliable to hold on to in his own way. In his eyes, the lights of the Magic Tower library seemed to glow faintly. He turned and picked up the basic meditation technique Eliza had given him, deciding to devote more of his time to this hidden training while he waited for the money to arrive. At least, when he held his "human-shaped cultivation accelerator" at night, he could train more efficiently.
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