Klugen, who had claimed to be Rose’s Phantom, had snuck into Court Count Mainhof’s banquet to assassinate the crown prince, where he and I had engaged in a fierce, life-and-death duel.

Honestly, with my skill at the time, holding my own was the most I could manage. I was only able to defeat the exhausted Klugen because the Mainhof family’s private soldiers, blinded by rage at their master’s death, had attacked him first.

Hmm, I couldn’t even guarantee a win with my current skill. He was the knight the Lord of Rosenheim took pride in, and he held the honor of being the Rose Knight. Viktor and August held him in tremendous regard.

The more they reminisced about Klugen, the more I realized that hiding the truth wasn’t a good idea. August had become my vassal knight and Viktor had become my subordinate, so I had a duty to tell them the truth.

The two of them were about to drink to old memories when I led them to the reception hall, and they seemed to sense the heavy atmosphere. This wasn’t something to speak of lightly. The death of a phantom carries that kind of weight.

"What kind of knight was Günter von Klugen?"

"He was a righteous and brave romantic knight who loved Rosenheim more than anyone."

August recalled the bittersweet memories of those days and the knight he so admired, his face glowing with reverence. The image of a knight among knights, shining bright and brilliant, came to mind—but the Klugen I knew had been as sharp as a rose turned black.

"But that fellow had a tendency not to look after himself, so he often got injured. Because of that, the Lord and I had to make sure he didn’t push himself too hard. Things changed after Aseldorf joined us, though."

"In what way?"

"Even though Aseldorf was a duchy knight, the Lord coveted him greatly. Surprisingly, Klugen had a childlike side and grew jealous of Aseldorf for getting more attention than him. Ha ha ha."

"I saw it clearly too. Sir Falkenheim and I often made bets about it."

For them, those were fond memories.

I could feel the heartfelt emotion of Viktor and August longing for those days.

But how cruel fate could be. The relationship between Klugen and my father, the resentment of the royal family that drove Klugen to attempt to assassinate the crown prince, the future of the royal line.

And his death at my hands.

It really did seem like a series of staggering coincidences.

"Do you know about the incident that earned me the name Gale Knight?"

"Among the people of Beren, you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn’t."

"The world knows it as the heroic tale of how I protected His Highness the Crown Prince from a vile French assassin. But the reality is completely different. So brace yourselves and listen."

What was I about to tell them?

August and Viktor’s puzzled expressions felt like a countdown.

If I just blurted out that I’d killed him, August and Viktor’s reactions wouldn’t be good, of course, so I explained in detail the circumstances that had forced me to kill him. The so-called Rose’s Phantom incident.

"And so, the Rose Knight, Günter von Klugen, died at my hands."

"..."

The two men’s faces were a whirlwind of shock and disbelief. The heavy silence stood in strange contrast to the festive sounds drifting in from outside. With a sigh, I drank wine to wet my throat.

Viktor looked utterly drained, as if all his strength had been sapped by this fate-tangled incident, too complicated to fully comprehend. August dropped his head and didn’t move from his spot.

It must have been an enormous shock to them.

To learn that their dear comrade had been killed by their new lord.

The dark red wine reflected in the goblet seemed to take on an even deeper, crueler color. They couldn’t speak for some time, lost in a psychological shock they couldn’t break free from. Viktor was the one who finally managed to open his mouth.

"...I don’t know what I’m supposed to say."

"I understand. But what’s certain is that even I, at the time, had no other choice."

"My feelings are complicated, but I sympathize with your position, my lord."

Like the mature man he was, Viktor didn’t reproach me for what I had done.

After all, no one could have imagined that cause and effect would become this intricately tangled. At the time, I had simply done my best. I’d had no choice but to draw my sword to protect Hilda and the crown prince.

"What were Klugen’s last words?"

The memories of that day came back to me like afterimages.

(Heed... my words... son of Streit... do not... trust... the royal family.)

"Son of Streit, do not trust the royal family."

"..."

"He believed the royal family had been involved in Baron Constance’s death."

"So he knew too. Geh’ zum Teufel! Altringen!"

Viktor’s hostility toward the royal family seemed to have grown even stronger.

But as I revisited the memory of that day and compared it with the current situation, something didn’t quite add up. First of all, why would Klugen target the crown prince? To cut off the Altringen bloodline?

But there were Princess Evangeline and Prince Louis, and there was also Duke Radensdorf, classified as a collateral royal. Why target the crown prince, who as far as I knew had no connection to the Lord of Rosenheim’s death?

To take revenge on the Grand Duke by killing his beloved son?

Wasn’t that reasoning a bit too simplistic?

Grand Duke Karlus had been surprisingly favorable toward Klugen.

No, it was clearly a courtesy extended out of respect for Baron Constance.

He’d gone out of his way to disguise the assassin who’d targeted his own son as a French spy, preserving Klugen’s honor. If it had been me, I’d have exposed everything and branded him with disgrace. And he’d buried the truth through a tripartite meeting.

Under Old Man Bertheim’s guidance, I’d gained the reputation of the Gale Knight, and everyone’s attention had been drawn there. That’s why my heroic tale was still being sung throughout the squares. Recently, a third verse had even been added.

The chain of cause and effect was strangely off, so even my speculation remained uncertain.

I felt like a curious cat. That’s why the old man had advised me not to set foot on this side of things. But with people this deeply connected right around me, how could I not be curious?

In any case, I didn’t share these doubts with the two of them. They were nothing more than my speculations, and voicing them would be of no help to their current emotional state. August spoke with effort.

"Please give me time to think. I beg you."

"If it’s too hard to accept, you may withdraw your oath."

"No. I cannot do that. And it wasn’t your fault, was it, my lord? Sir Klugen didn’t resent you either. I just need a little time to think. Forgive my discourtesy."

August disappeared off somewhere just like that.

Viktor wordlessly downed strong distilled spirits, gulp after gulp.

At least it wasn’t the worst possible outcome.

They knew that Klugen and I had been entangled by pure coincidence.

Since each of us needed time to think, I quietly excused myself.

The moment I stepped out of the manor, festive music rang through the air.

The villagers were dancing and singing in the square.

The musicians I’d brought with us were playing the tunes.

"War brings suffering, love brings joy!"

"Ah! The wind that blows from the north! The galloping wolf!"

"Ride to the distant north, where a maiden like a flower waits!"

"Ah! The wind that blows from the north! The galloping wolf!"

"The noble wolf’s love brings joy to me!"

Hilda, attended by Sabine and Priscilla, was reclining on a long couch, cheerfully enjoying the songs being sung and played by the villagers and musicians. Of course, we were seated apart from the villagers.

"What song is that? Was there a folk song like this?"

"Hee hee, Wolf. The musicians say it’s a song they composed in tribute to Feuzen."

It was quite a lively and cheerful melody. Folk songs tend to share similar melodies, so this one was likely derived from another. The title was apparently "The Noble Wolf’s Love."

The name Wolfgang itself, romantically interpreted, means "noble wolf."

"Is the lady enjoying the feast?"

"Of course. Judging by how lovable Wolf appears, I must have had quite a lot of wine."

"My, my, my lady. I’m a lovable husband at all times, you know."

Pfft! Sabine briefly burst into laughter.

She hurriedly covered her mouth, but her eyes were smiling.

"See? When you say silly things like that, even Sabine laughs at you."

"N-no, my lady! I’d never dare laugh at the master!"

"Oh my, Sabine. Your face has turned into an apple."

Hilda seemed to be enjoying teasing Sabine.

But Priscilla’s gaze was fixed on Hans the entire time. Following her line of sight, I saw Hans being held captive by Chief Wentner, who was lavishing him with attention. Hans was already being reeled in.

Even though he was a bit clumsy in everyday matters, Hans was indisputably the foremost among the retainers.

He’d been with me the longest, so the other retainers acknowledged Hans’s seniority and obediently followed his orders. By the way, Wentner’s disposition really was ambitious. He had an uncanny knack for spotting which retainer he most needed to win over.

"Um, Chief? This treatment is too generous. It’s making me uncomfortable."

"Oh no, not at all! For Sir Flamm, this much hospitality is only natural! Aren’t you the retainer of retainers?"

"R-retainer of retainers? Ahem, while that’s true, you’d best restrain yourself in front of our master."

"I’ve already been scolded once. Ha ha, so please go easy on me."

Hans was downing his drink with a stupid grin, but he didn’t seem to notice his bride glaring at him fiercely. He was going to get an earful later. I looked around to see what the other retainers were up to.

Oscar was dining quietly with his bride. They’d married because they liked each other, but they were a more bashful couple than I’d expected. Anton, Winter, and Ted were huddled together, drinking themselves into oblivion.

I was truly grateful that Fiel was standing guard so I could rest at ease. The order’s members were also taking turns enjoying the feast in shifts, so there were no gaps in security. There was real value in selecting them based on disposition. None of them caused trouble.