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162 The Unspoken Vow
Harald, who had been mindlessly nodding along, suddenly snapped back to reality and corrected his tone.
William was now both a Margrave and a Duke—titles that placed him above Harald in official ranking.
"…Your Grace, you should join us as well. This concerns the North—"
"You may not."
Harald stiffened.
The voice that interrupted him was Glenn’s.
His tone was firm—icy, even.
Glenn then leaned closer to William, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Your Grace… this is a personal letter from His Majesty. It cannot be shared with anyone else."
William’s brows furrowed.
A sealed missive from the Emperor?
On top of being named Margrave and Duke?
At this point, it felt like all of this had been intended for his grandfather, Sigmund, rather than himself.
Harald looked visibly displeased, but William gave him a subtle nod.
"I’ll explain later," William assured him.
Then, without further delay, he and Glenn stepped into the private reception hall.
Inside the chamber…
William wasted no time.
He turned to Glenn, his voice edged with controlled urgency.
"Explain," he demanded. "Why was I named Margrave? I only sought recognition over my grandfather’s inheritance."
Glenn let out a short chuckle.
"…I imagine this must be quite overwhelming. But allow me to clarify."
Instead of answering immediately, he turned and secured the room.
He opened the door, checking for eavesdroppers. Then, from within his cloak, he produced four circular artifacts and placed them at each corner of the room.
A reddish glow spread across the chamber like a barrier, sealing it from the outside world.
William’s eyes narrowed.
"What is this?"
"A device that ensures our conversation does not leave this room," Glenn replied.
A precautionary measure.
One so thorough that even William felt a bit unnerved.
Only when the glow faded did Glenn exhale and meet William’s gaze.
"…Now, Your Grace, feel free to ask your questions."
William took a deep breath.
"First and foremost—what, exactly, is my new title?"
Glenn smiled.
"It is exactly as stated in the decree," he said. "You are now a Duke—the rightful successor to Grimaldi. You are also a Margrave, holding authority over a strategic border region. And, on top of that, you remain a candidate for Hern’s succession."
William’s fingers tightened.
"…That’s three separate power bases."
Glenn nodded.
"Indeed. His Majesty intended it this way. He wished to secure your strength, without disrupting the balance of power too much."
William exhaled sharply.
’This… is absurd.’
The Grimaldi Dukedom had prestige but little real land—only a small estate remained.
But a Margrave?
A Margrave wielded true power.
They were exempt from heavy taxation, had minimal restrictions on standing armies, and held almost complete autonomy in their region.
This was far more dangerous than even a Duke’s title.
Even many Marquises in the Empire did not have such authority.
And now, he did?
"…His Majesty truly expects me to wield such power?"
Glenn’s smile thinned.
"The Emperor said, and I quote—"
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small black envelope.
William’s gut twisted.
A sealed message from the Emperor himself.
"…Read it, Your Grace," Glenn urged, handing it over.
William hesitated only a moment before unfolding it.
It was not a grand decree.
Not ornate parchment or wax-sealed scrolls.
Just a simple, black sheet with precise, deliberate handwriting.
William’s eyes scanned the words.
I will keep this brief.
You are undoubtedly bewildered. You have received far more than you originally sought. You may even suspect a trap.
That is not the case.
The truth is simple—I need you.
Or rather—my son needs you.
William, I ask of you this:
Support the Crown Prince. Help him secure the throne.
William’s grip on the paper tightened.
He already knew the Emperor favored the First Prince over the Second.
But to make it this explicit…
He read on.
I am certain you wonder why I hold Claude in such regard.
The answer is simple: his younger brother cannot use Imperial relics.
I will not go into detail.
But now that you know, I trust you to act wisely.
William’s blood ran cold.
’…He can’t use Imperial relics?’
That—
That was insane.
The Second Prince, the favored alternative, was not truly of Imperial blood?
William cursed under his breath, crushing the paper in his fist.
He glanced at Glenn.
The knight was pointedly looking away, as if to signal—
I don’t know what you read.
Which meant—
He did know.
He just wasn’t supposed to acknowledge it.
William exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to remain composed.
He looked down at the final lines of the message.
*Grow stronger. Build your influence. And when the time comes—stand with my son.
I have given you everything I could offer. This is not a trap—only a plea.
Do not forget this debt, William Hern.*
William closed his eyes, then tossed the letter into the nearby candle flame.
It burned instantly—reduced to nothing but ashes.
Glenn didn’t even flinch.
"Have you made your decision?" Glenn asked quietly.
William exhaled.
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The answer was obvious.
Even if he had doubts, even if he felt trapped—
The Emperor had given him everything.
A ducal title, a margrave’s domain, a restored dynasty, and freedom to keep his inheritance from Hern.
How could he possibly refuse?
William sighed.
"…Tell His Majesty," he said slowly, "that William Hern will never forget this favor."
Glenn smiled.
"Then I shall inform him of your loyalty to the Crown Prince."
William scoffed.
"Don’t push your luck, Glenn."
The knight chuckled.
Then, abruptly, William turned serious again.
"One more thing."
Glenn raised an eyebrow.
"My Margrave domain," William continued. "I was granted the title—but where, exactly, is my territory?"
Glenn’s expression shifted.
Then, slowly, he grinned.
"Oh," he said.
"You’ll love this, Your Grace."
It was an unspoken rule of nobility—without a proper domain, a noble with a title was worth less than one of lower rank who possessed land. A title without a suitable fief was no honor; it was a mockery, a hollow gesture disguised as imperial favor.
At William’s words, Glenn simply smiled, reaching into his coat and retrieving a rolled parchment.
"Of course. Please, take a look at this."