The Mole Hunt
It depends on the circumstances. Whether the target can be identified. Whether they've never met but have heard tales of each other.
All those factors went into his judgment.
This time, Victor had chosen a mole hunt.
"Spread the word about the reward. If they find him, say Bayern will make it worth their while. Confirm how and where he entered, too."
"Yes, sir."
Having issued his orders, Victor surveyed the street.
Lovers strolling by with smiles, an elderly man who recognized him and doffed his hat in greeting, children dashing about.
A scene of such tedious peace.
I'll protect it. This time.
His previous life had been steeped in arrogance.
So absorbed in "important" matters that he'd forgotten what truly mattered.
One mistake was enough; he was a quick study.
Of course…
My temperament hasn't changed entirely.
If it had, he wouldn't have made this choice.
"Your Grace, if we block this route, where do you think he'll head?"
"The Bayern estate."
He replied languidly, drawing a cigar from his pocket and lighting it.
The acrid smoke filled his lungs deeply.
He rarely smoked at the estate, for the sake of the children and Ibel.
Matthias tilted his head, unable to follow his master's reasoning.
"I'm not dim-witted, but Your Grace's schemes are beyond me."
"It's an invitation. If he's curious, he'll come. It's also a signal to show his face and face us head-on."
He'd sealed the escape routes.
A temporary blockade was in place; no safe path in or out of Bayern remained.
Well, if he was so eager to return home, he could try the minefield-plagued wasteland.
He'd die before reaching the border.
Gaspar Lorang. He'll slink straight to the estate.
It was a prime chance to gather intel on a man known only through whispers and rumors.
Of course, there was the risk Damian's condition could be exposed in turn…
"I need to know what code he uses to send letters to the Franche king. Tell the post office to inspect every incoming document. Telegrams especially—hold them all, no immediate delivery."
"Aigoo, my workload's about to explode."
Grumbling though he was, Matthias moved swiftly.
With that handled, Victor headed to a street vendor roasting peanuts.
Since he was out, he might as well bring back something Ibel liked.
Doing things like this… I have changed, at least a little.
Caring for someone felt awkward.
Remembering their tastes, giving gifts.
Just to see a smile.
The old him would never have bothered.
Though shoving a dangerous element into his own jaws was as reckless as ever.
Still, he counted it a meaningful shift.
"Your Grace, if I may."
On the way back to the estate.
Matthias, riding leisurely beside him, ventured a question.
"Do you really think war's coming? You're preparing us and all… Ah, I don't doubt your judgment, of course."
Matthias couldn't help wondering.
The man who'd thrived on prowling the capital and foreign hot spots was suddenly holing up in the territory. Abruptly preparing a marriage. And now openly bracing for war.
He followed orders, but it left him uneasy.
"I'll do everything to prevent it, but… who knows."
"So you put the odds at over eighty percent."
"Even if I must head to the front, Bayern must remain safe."
"Naturally. We'll have five years' worth of rations stockpiled by year's end."
Victor nodded, gazing up at the clear blue sky.
Compared to the memory of it blackened by artillery fire, it was breathtakingly beautiful.
Such things deserved protection.
"Reject all future real estate speculation proposals."
"Yes, sir. But the railroad venture—you truly won't invest?"
"No reason to."
Up to this point, Victor had sketched a grand design.
Projections riddled with uncertainty, yet his instincts assured him they were right.
Why did Richter's king abandon me in the first place?
One answer.
To swallow Bayern whole.
With no lady of the house besides young nephews, it was simply a matter of letting them die off.
Richter appeared united on the surface, but north and south were divided beneath.
The king ruled the north.
Bayern ruled the south.
Crushing Bayern and absorbing the north had long been the royal house's obsession.
His prior plunge into the Lee-Pre war had been to shield his people.
Franche bordered southern Richter.
He'd secured a treaty bolstering Bayern's autonomy in exchange for his service. Mere scrap paper, in the end.
I was discarded at the last, but Richter still won the war. So they'd have demanded massive reparations from Franche.
The current king lacked patience and brains.
In an era of accelerating industrialization, what would he do with that sudden influx of funds?
Probably flood the markets to shore up his popularity. Appease the south's unrest, too.
But a sudden surge in currency supply doesn't lead only to booms… economies cut both ways.
Money flowing freely would spawn banks and firms like mushrooms after rain; the Bethel family would've bloated their enterprises.
He couldn't know the exact future that had unfolded—he hadn't seen it.
Speculation, yes, but his hunches rarely missed.
"What happens if billions flood the markets?"
"Hm. Under this reign? Banks and companies springing up everywhere. Existing ones siphoning funds bit by bit."
"Narrow it to railroads."
"Oh… They'd lay tracks anywhere to pocket profits later, but show they've built something. Unprofitable spots are ideal—no people means slapdash work, skimping rebar since no one uses it… Aha!"
Matthias's face lit with realization midway. Victor gave his capable aide a curt directive.
"Assume war breaks out and Richter wins. Railroads will inevitably collapse afterward."
"Hm, Bethels skim a fortune, but yes, that's the endgame."
"We'll need rails in Bayern too, but never approve their involvement wholesale. Limit to profitable lines, make it feel like we're granting favors without investment."
"Got it. Can't let them pave everywhere."
By the time their exchange wrapped, the estate loomed ahead.
Odd—the garden exhibition should still be underway, yet the music had stopped.
"Lay fewer than needed. Essentials only. The rest… buy cheap when Bethels crash."
With that, he spurred his horse. Matthias grinned, keeping pace.
"I love it when Your Grace plays the villain most!"
Naturally, the exhibition was a disaster.
The heir of a noble house had nearly died!
No one could chatter merrily in such chaos.
"I heard from Lady Eberstein recently. She studied medicine abroad."
"Oh, a doctor!"
"Yes, she's taken full charge as physician to the young Bayern masters."
"That explains it. What a remarkable woman."
It was an era when admiration for capable women ran high.
Young ladies traded rumors, casting envious glances at the grand estate.
Noblewomen clutched their chests in relief, children hid behind skirts in fright.
Ibel had calmed nerves somewhat with warm honeyed tea.
Then Victor appeared.