Ripples of Funding and the Surge of Undercurrents

The Northern Frontier, Hohenzollern Marquisate, Winter City.

This magnificent castle, built from dark gray stone blocks, stood like a silent giant upon the snowy plain, where cold winds blew all year round. Its interior was as rugged and austere as its exterior. Great fireplaces blazed day and night, driving away the bitter polar cold but doing nothing to dispel the oppressive, blood-chilling atmosphere that hung in the air. This was a world utterly unlike the luxurious splendor of the Imperial Capital, Sacrifice. Every corner bore the mark of a military aristocracy's iron will and pragmatism.

In the study of the marquis's residence, firelight danced across the sharply defined features of Marquis Otto von Hohenzollern. He had just finished a meeting with the border commanders. A trace of weariness showed between his brows, but far more prominent was the grimness that clung to him. The barbarians had been stirring more and more often, and their raids had grown larger than in previous years, as if something were brewing deep in the icy wastes. Yet the Empire's supplies and reinforcements were slow in coming, like water slowly brought to a boil. Their absence left him increasingly restless and resentful of the central government.

Just then, there was a soft knock at the study door.

"Come in." Marquis Otto's voice was low, carrying an unquestionable authority.

Old Morris, the butler who had served the Hohenzollern family for forty years, entered respectfully, carrying two letters sealed with magical wax.

"My lord, my lady. These letters just arrived from the Imperial Capital through an urgent courier. One is for my lady, and the other is for young master Karl. They were both sent by... young master Leon." Old Morris's voice was steady, though a hint of complicated emotion glimmered in his eyes. A letter from young master Leon usually meant trouble and extra expense for the marquis's household in the Northern Frontier.

Sitting by the fireplace in an armchair covered with thick bearskin, Lady Sophia was mending an old military cloak. At the news, she immediately looked up. Though she was over forty, time seemed to have been especially kind to this beauty from the southern Roland Marquisate. It had added only a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes, lending her an even gentler charm. Now her beautiful face was filled with worry and urgency, and she promptly set down her needle and thread.

"Leon's written? Quickly, Morris, give it to me!" Lady Sophia rose to her feet, forgetting all about noble decorum. She practically snatched the letter addressed to her from Old Morris's hands. When it came to her youngest son, she could never be as "calm" as her husband.

Marquis Otto frowned, displeased by his wife's loss of composure, but said nothing. He took the letter addressed to his eldest son, Karl, from Old Morris and asked in a low voice, "Did he say anything else? Where's the messenger?"

"The messenger has been shown to a room to rest. He only said that young master Leon seemed to have an urgent matter and specifically requested that the letter be delivered as quickly as possible," Old Morris replied with a bow.

Marquis Otto waved his hand. Old Morris withdrew without a sound and gently closed the door behind him.

Only the marquis and his wife remained in the study. Lady Sophia had already hurriedly opened her letter and begun reading it. As she read, her eyes grew red, and the hand holding the paper trembled slightly.

"What is it?" Seeing his wife's reaction, Marquis Otto furrowed his brow even more deeply, a foreboding feeling rising within him. Had that little brat caused another huge mess in the capital, one even Margaret couldn't clean up?

"Otto... look..." Lady Sophia held out the letter, her voice choked with emotion. "Leon... he says that Miss Eliza Windsor's Coming-of-Age Ceremony is next month, and he needs to prepare a gift and cover the related expenses. He's short on money and hopes... hopes we can send him five hundred Gold Rolands..."

Marquis Otto took the letter and skimmed it quickly. Leon's handwriting still had its usual air of restlessness, but the letter itself was far more "organized" than before. At least he now knew to elevate the matter into something that "concerned the honor of both families." Even so, the sum of five hundred Gold Rolands made a vein twitch on Marquis Otto's forehead.

"Five hundred Gold Rolands!" He gave a cold snort and slapped the letter onto the desk with a dull thud. "Does he think Gold Rolands are shards of ice blown in from the Northern Frontier, just lying around for anyone to pick up? Why spend so lavishly on a Coming-of-Age Ceremony? Does the Windsor family really lack such things?"

"But Otto!" Lady Sophia hurried to defend her son. "This isn't just a Coming-of-Age Ceremony. It's also the prelude to the children's engagement! How can the Hohenzollern family fail to observe proper etiquette? What will the Windsor family, and all those people in the capital, think of Leon and our family? Leon said in his letter that he'll spend the money carefully and use every coin for proper purposes! Perhaps the boy... perhaps he really has grown more sensible and started thinking of the family?" Her voice brimmed with a mother's hope and a desperate refusal to face reality.

"Sensible? Thinking of the family?" Marquis Otto laughed in anger. "What's he going to use to show his good sense? That body he's ruined with wine and women, or that strength Hans rated as 'the peak of a Novice Knight'? Sophia, get a grip! This is clearly the same old story—he's found a respectable-sounding excuse to keep squandering money!"

"But it's Eliza's Coming-of-Age Ceremony!" Lady Sophia insisted, tears welling in her eyes. "Even if Leon has done wrong, we're the ones who arranged this marriage. Surely we can't let the formalities fall short? Do we really want our son to lose face in front of every noble in the capital, unable to present even a decent gift? Think how sad Wolfgang and his wife would be..." She invoked the retired Old Marquis and his wife. It was her trump card.

At the mention of his parents, Marquis Otto's imposing air faltered slightly. He knew all too well how blindly his parents doted on their worthless little grandson. If Leon were embarrassed at such an important event over a matter of money, jeopardizing the engagement, the first person to object would surely be his hot-tempered father.

He rose irritably and paced the study. The Northern Frontier's military budget was tight, and every Gold Roland had to be spent where it mattered most. But Leon's reason for asking did make Otto hesitate. This wasn't ordinary mischief; it involved the family's marriage alliance and how others viewed them.

Just then, there was another knock at the study door, and Karl von Hohenzollern entered. He had just finished a day of patrol. The chill of the outdoors still clung to him, and he had yet to remove his armor. His features resembled his father's in many ways, but his youthful sharpness and composure stood out even more.

"Father, Mother." Karl bowed. His gaze swept over his father's dark expression and his mother's tearful eyes, and he understood most of what had happened. "Is this about Leon's letter?"

"Read it yourself!" Marquis Otto grumbled, pushing the letter that belonged to him across the desk to his eldest son. In fact, Leon's letter to Karl said much the same thing, though its tone was more "brotherly." It contained fewer pleas to their parents and more talk of "teaming up to do something big."

Karl read the letter quickly. His handsome face revealed nothing, but deep in his light brown eyes flickered a trace of helplessness and... a faint hint of disappointment. His younger brother was still the same as ever.

"What do you think?" Marquis Otto asked in a low voice. He wanted the opinion of the eldest son who made him proud.

Karl fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts before replying with a measured analysis. "Father, from Leon's perspective, his reasoning isn't entirely unreasonable. Eliza Windsor's Coming-of-Age Ceremony is indeed significant. The Hohenzollern family can't afford to give anyone cause for criticism over this, especially with the situation on the Northern Frontier so tense. We need the Windsor family's potential financial support now more than ever."

He then changed tack, his tone growing stern. "But five hundred Gold Rolands is a huge sum. Given Leon's past behavior, it's hard to believe he'd use all of it for its intended purpose. I suspect at least half would be wasted."

Lady Sophia started to object, but when she saw her eldest son's calm gaze, she swallowed her words. She knew that although Karl loved his younger brother, he was far more rational than she was.

"So," Karl continued, "we can send him money, but not the full amount, and not without conditions. I suggest we approve his request but send only three hundred Gold Rolands for now. And the money shouldn't go directly to him. It should be paid through our family trading company's account in the capital, earmarked for 'engagement-related ceremonial expenses,' with the company's manager overseeing how it's spent. At the same time, our reply must warn him in no uncertain terms: this is the last time the family will provide such a large sum for his personal affairs. If he makes another unreasonable request or is caught misusing the funds, he'll be punished severely!"

Marquis Otto listened to his eldest son's analysis and nodded slowly. Karl's proposal protected the family's reputation while keeping Leon on a tighter leash. It was the safest way to handle things for now. Though Otto had lost faith in his younger son, he had to admit that Karl was more thorough in looking after the family's overall interests.

"We'll do as Karl suggests." Marquis Otto made his final decision, his voice weary. He turned to his wife. "Sophia, write back to Leon. You can be gentle in your tone, but the main points must match what Karl's written. This money is being sent because of the engagement to the Windsor family, not to let him run wild!"

Lady Sophia saw that her husband had relented. Although the amount had been cut, the problem was at least settled. She nodded quickly, her face lighting with relief, already thinking of how to remind her son to take care of his health and win over his future in-laws.

Karl picked up a quill and began drafting his reply to Leon. His handwriting was firm and forceful, just like him. First, he calmly laid out the pros and cons, agreed to send three hundred Gold Rolands, and explained how the funds would be supervised. Then his tone turned sharp:

"...Leon, you're an adult now, and you should understand what responsibility means. The family shelters you; that doesn't mean you can take from us without end. This exception will be the last. I hope you'll take this to heart, focus on what matters, train diligently in the martial arts, and choose your words and actions with care. Don't make our parents worry or bring shame upon the family again. The Northern Frontier's winds and snow are bitter, and our soldiers risk their lives. Every resource is hard-won. If you still have even a shred of pride as a member of the Hohenzollern family, you should know what to do."

"Also, I heard you recently had a disagreement with the Metternich family. Countess Margaret handled the matter appropriately. Keep the family's position in mind. Don't start trouble, but if anyone comes looking for a fight, the Hohenzollern family fears no challenge. Use your own judgment to know where to draw the line."

As he reached the end, his pen paused briefly. In the end, he added one last sentence:

"...Take care."

Those two simple words carried the complicated feelings of an older brother.

The letters were soon sealed, and sent to the capital by a dedicated courier through a magical communication array, along with Lady Sophia's letter, full of a mother's love and reminders, and the order to transfer three hundred Gold Rolands.

The winds of the Northern Frontier continued to howl past Winter City. The decision made in the marquis's study became an invisible ripple, soon to cross a thousand miles and reach the capital, stirring Leon's already turbulent fate once more. Where would this "assistance," laden with warnings and hopes, lead him? That remained to be seen.