Financial Ripples and Surging Undercurrents

Northern Territory, Hohenzollern Marquisate, Winter City.

This magnificent castle, built from massive blocks of black and grey stone, stood like a silent giant on the snowfield where a cold wind blew year-round. Inside, the castle was as rugged and hard as its exterior. Great fireplaces burned day and night, warding off the extreme cold of the polar region but failing to dispel the heavy, somber atmosphere that permeated the air. This was a world entirely different from the decadent prosperity of the Imperial Capital's Sacrifice, a place where every corner bore the imprint of the military aristocracy's iron will and pragmatism.

In the study of the Marquis's mansion, the fireplace's flames danced, reflecting on the sharply defined face of Marquis Otto von Hohenzollern. He had just concluded a meeting with border generals, a trace of exhaustion in his brows, but more prominently, a lingering severity. The barbarians' movements were becoming increasingly frequent and their raids exceeded those of previous years, as if something was brewing deep within the ice fields. Yet, the Empire's supplies and reinforcements were as slow as lukewarm water, their arrival long overdue, filling him with anxiety and dissatisfaction towards the central government.

Just then, a soft knock sounded at the study door.

"Enter," Marquis Otto's voice was deep, carrying an unquestionable authority.

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

"My Lord Marquis, Madame. These are urgent letters just delivered from the Imperial Capital. One is for Madame, and the other is for young Master Karl. The sender is... young Master Leon." Old Morris's voice was steady, but a subtle complexity flickered in his eyes. A letter from young Master Leon usually meant trouble and extra expenses for the Northern Marquisate.

Seated by the fireplace in an armchair covered with a thick bearskin, mending an old battle robe, the Marchioness Sophia looked up immediately at the mention of Leon. Though past forty, time seemed to have been particularly kind to this beauty from the southern Roland Marquisate. A few fine lines at the corners of her eyes only enhanced her gentle charm. Now, her beautiful face was etched with worry and eagerness, and she immediately put down her needlework.

"A letter from Leon? Quick, Morris, give it to me!" Madame Sophia stood up, disregarding aristocratic etiquette, and snatched the letter addressed to her from Old Morris's hand. She could never be as "calm" with her youngest son as her husband was.

Marquis Otto frowned, displeased with his wife's uncharacteristic behavior, but said nothing. He took the letter addressed to their eldest son, Karl, from Old Morris and asked in a deep voice, "Did he say anything else? Where is the messenger?"

"The messenger has been arranged for rest. He only said that young Master Leon seemed to have urgent business and specifically requested expedited delivery," Old Morris replied with a bow.

Marquis Otto waved his hand, and Old Morris silently withdrew, closing the door softly.

Only the Marquis and his wife remained in the study. Madame Sophia had already eagerly opened her letter and was reading it carefully. As she read, her eyes welled up, and her hand holding the letter trembled slightly.

"What is it?" Marquis Otto's frown deepened at his wife's reaction, a sense of foreboding rising within him. Had that scoundrel gotten into some serious trouble in the Imperial Capital that even Margaret couldn't handle?

"Otto... look..." Madame Sophia handed the letter to her husband, her voice choked with emotion. "Leon... he says next month is Miss Elisa Windsor's Coming-of-Age Ceremony, and he needs to prepare a gift and related expenses. He's short on funds and hopes... hopes we can support him with five hundred Gold Rolands..."

Marquis Otto took the letter and scanned it quickly. Leon's handwriting still carried that restless energy, but the content was much more "organized" than before. At least he knew how to elevate the matter to the level of "concern for the dignity of two great families." However, the sum of five hundred Gold Rolands still made the veins on Marquis Otto's forehead bulge.

"Five hundred Gold Rolands!" he snorted, slapping the letter onto the desk with a dull thud. "Does he think Gold Rolands are ice shards scraped from the Northern Territory? Something you can just pick up anywhere? Why such extravagance for a Coming-of-Age Ceremony! Surely the Windsor family isn't lacking in such things?"

"But Otto!" Madame Sophia quickly defended her son. "This isn't just a Coming-of-Age Ceremony, it's also a prelude to the engagement of the two children! How can our Hohenzollern family lose face? Allowing the Windsor family, and those people in the Imperial Capital, to look down on Leon, to look down on our family? Leon said in his letter that he would use it judiciously and for proper purposes! This child... this child might truly have matured and started thinking about the family?" Her tone was filled with a mother's hope and a reluctance to face reality.

"Matured? Thinking about the family?" Marquis Otto laughed in anger. "With what? His body hollowed out by wine and women, or his strength, which even Hans described as 'peak Novice Knight'? Sophia, wake up! This is clearly him falling back into his old ways, finding a respectable excuse to continue squandering!"

"But it's Elisa's Coming-of-Age Ceremony!" Madame Sophia insisted, tears welling in her eyes. "Even if Leon is wrong, this marriage was our decision. We can't be lacking in appearances, can we? Must our son be disgraced in front of all the nobles in the Imperial Capital, unable to even afford a decent gift? If that happens, how heartbroken Father and Mother Wolfgang would be..." She invoked the retired Old Marquis and his wife, her trump card.

Mention of his parents caused Marquis Otto's imposing demeanor to falter slightly. He knew well the almost blind doting his parents had for their good-for-nothing grandson. If Leon were to make a fool of himself on such an important occasion due to money issues, causing complications in the engagement, his hot-tempered father would likely be the first to object.

He stood up irritably and paced the study. The Northern Territory's military funds were tight; every Gold Roland had to be spent where it was most needed. But Leon's reason gave him pause. This wasn't ordinary mischief; it involved family alliances and external perception.

Just then, the study door was knocked again, and Karl von Hohenzollern entered. He had just finished his day's patrol, still carrying the chill of the outdoors, his armor unremoved. His brows bore a seven-tenths resemblance to his father's, but with more of a young man's sharpness and composure.

"Father, Mother," Karl bowed. His gaze swept over his father's grim expression and his mother's tear-streaked face, and he understood about eighty percent of the situation. "Is it Leon's letter?"

"Read it yourself!" Marquis Otto shoved the letter meant for him on the desk to his eldest son irritably. In truth, the content of Leon's letter to Karl was largely the same, only the tone was more "brotherly," with less pleading towards his parents and more of a "joining forces for a grand endeavor" vibe.

Karl quickly finished reading the letter. His handsome face revealed little emotion, but in the depths of his light brown eyes, a flash of helplessness and... a faint hint of disappointment flickered. His brother, as expected, was still the same.

"What do you think?" Marquis Otto asked in a deep voice, wanting to hear his proud eldest son's opinion.

Karl was silent for a moment, organizing his thoughts before calmly analyzing, "Father, from Leon's perspective, his reasoning isn't entirely unreasonable. Elisa Windsor's Coming-of-Age Ceremony is indeed significant. Our Hohenzollern family cannot afford to be criticized in this matter, especially now with the tense situation in the Northern Territory; we need the Windsor family's potential financial support even more."

He shifted his tone, becoming stern. "However, five hundred Gold Rolands is a huge sum. Given Leon's past behavior, it's hard to believe he'll use it all for proper purposes. I suspect at least half of it will be squandered."

Madame Sophia wanted to retort, but looking at her eldest son's calm eyes, she swallowed her words. She knew that while Karl loved his brother, he was far more rational than she was.

"Therefore," Karl continued, "the money can be given, but not all of it, and not easily. My suggestion is to agree to his request, but only disburse three hundred Gold Rolands initially. Furthermore, this money will not be given directly to him but through our family's account at the Imperial Capital's merchant guild, designated for 'expenses related to engagement ceremonies,' and supervised by the guild manager. At the same time, we must sternly warn him in our reply that this is the family's last time providing such a large sum for his personal affairs. If there are any further unreasonable demands, or if he is found to have misused the funds, he will be severely punished!"

Marquis Otto listened to his eldest son's analysis and slowly nodded. Karl's plan considered the bigger picture, avoided family disgrace, and strengthened control over Leon. It was the most stable course of action. Although disappointed in his younger son, he had to admit that Karl considered the overall interests of the family more thoroughly.

"We'll do as Karl says," Marquis Otto finally decided, his voice tinged with fatigue. He looked at his wife. "Sophia, you write back to Leon. Your tone can be gentler, but the core message should be the same as Karl's letter. This money is given in consideration of the engagement with the Windsor family, not for him to fool around!"

Seeing her husband relent, Madame Sophia, though the amount was reduced, was relieved that the problem was solved. She quickly agreed, a look of relief spreading across her face. She was already planning what else to add to the letter, like reminding her son to take care of his health and to please his future in-laws.

Karl, meanwhile, picked up a quill and began drafting his reply to Leon. His handwriting was strong and firm, just like his character. In the letter, he first calmly analyzed the pros and cons, agreeing to disburse three hundred Gold Rolands and explaining the fund supervision method. Then, his pen suddenly turned sharp:

"...Leon, you are an adult and should understand the meaning of responsibility. The family provides you shelter, not for you to endlessly demand. This exception is the last time. I hope you will conduct yourself properly, focus on the right path, diligently practice your martial arts, be prudent in your words and actions, and do not cause your parents further worry or bring shame to the family. The winds and snow of the Northern Territory are fierce, and the soldiers fight with their lives; every penny of resources is hard-earned. If you still possess even a shred of pride as a Hohenzollern family member, you should know what to do."

"Furthermore, I heard you recently had some friction with the Metternich family. Countess Margaret handled it appropriately, and you should remember the family's stance. Do not initiate trouble, but if someone bullies you, the Hohenzollern family fears no challenge. Exercise your own judgment within proper bounds."

As he wrote the end, his handwriting paused slightly, and he finally added a line:

"...Take care."

These two simple words contained the complex, inexpressible emotions of this elder brother.

The letters were quickly sealed, along with Madame Sophia's letter full of maternal love and advice, and the directive to transfer three hundred Gold Rolands. They were then sent to the Imperial Capital via a special magic transmission array.

The wind of the Northern Territory still howled past Winter City. The decision made in the Marquis's study transformed into an invisible ripple, about to cross a thousand miles to reach the Imperial Capital and stir Leon's already turbulent fate once more. And to what kind of situation would this "subsidy," filled with warnings and expectations, push Leon? All remained unknown.