The chirping of birds, the scent of flower blossoms, and the sound of church bells were the signs of a beautiful morning—or so I thought.
After reading the letter, my morning soured.
A storm of questions raced through my mind:
Why carry out an operation against the non-godbloods all of a sudden?
Why was Prime Minister Drevail made king?
Why was Sir Lord Paul Keller, next in line, passed over for the throne?
I needed answers.
I went to my father's office and rummaged through his official documents, searching drawer after drawer like a madman. The pristine marble floors soon disappeared beneath a sea of scattered papers.
I must find anything related to the Keller family.
Something caught my eye: an official letter sent by Randy Keller to my father.
Randy Keller—a member of the Keller household, commander of the Southern Division, and a mage knight.
The letter dated back twelve years. It discussed a request from my father, asking Randy to investigate the fallen kingdom of Thorheim—now part of the Tumedia Empire—and gather evidence about the death of someone named Alaric Freiburg.
At first glance, the letter seemed irrelevant. It mentioned two names that appeared unrelated to my current investigation. But on closer inspection, it revealed that my father had enlisted the Kellers, using their resources in the Waldheim province, which bordered Tumedia, to secretly further his investigation into Alaric Freiburg's death.
Waldheim—the southernmost province of the Ostinan Kingdom, home to the Keller family. Randy Keller, the mage knight, commanded the Southern Division from there.
Something about all this felt unusual.
Non-godbloods are a race unable to manipulate mana. Because of that, Peter couldn't summon a grimoire... nor could I, though in my case, it was due to my divine authority. Peter had been in the academy for so long, yet no one sensed any mana distortion around him. Non-godbloods, by nature of their cursed lineage, distort mana in their surroundings. That's how we usually identify them. But Peter... he didn't distort anything. Is it because he's not a full non-godblood?
And what about the mana classes at the academy? Everyone was required to meet a priest at the Royal Cathedral to demonstrate their mana manipulation skills. With Peter's inability to manipulate mana, he shouldn't have passed. Did the academy willfully waive the test for him?
So many questions demanded answers.
But first, I needed to head to Waldheim, to meet the Kellers at their manor.
---
"Sir Candle, Candle," I called out to the postilion.
"Yes, Sir Johannes Freiburg," Candle replied.
"Prepare the carriage. I would like to head to Waldheim—specifically the Keller manor," I instructed.
"Yes, my lord," he answered.
A single-house carriage, with a golden-lined coach, took me to the Waldheim province, specifically the city of Waldheim.
The city is famed for its nature reserve—home to mighty forests, with trees as tall as the world tree itself. Truly, it was a city of endless green.
After several days, I finally arrived at my destination.
"KELLER FAMILY MANOR," the sign at the gate read.
Words couldn't describe what lay before me.
The manor rose like a sleeping giant over misty hills, its towering stone walls aged to a noble gray by centuries of rain and wind. Built at the heart of a sprawling estate, its foundations stretched across manicured gardens and groves of ancient oaks. Ivy clung stubbornly to its weathered battlements, trailing across arched windows glazed with uneven glass that caught the morning sun like scattered jewels. Surely, this manor was not the work of mere men—it seemed almost divine.
I placed my hands on the gate, only to find it locked. To the left of the wall, a button caught my eye.
With a gentle touch, I pressed it, triggering an alarm to alert the guards inside.
"Who goes there?" a guard called out.
"I am Sir Lord Johannes Freiburg, son of Sir Lord Mathias Freiburg, noble of the Tongarian Province. I seek audience with Paul Keller," I announced.
"He has left for an official trip to the capital," the guard replied.
To see Drevail... an interesting development.
"Without his permission, we are sorry, but we cannot let you in," the guard continued.
From an upper window of the manor, a lady's voice echoed:
"Guards, show some respect! That's Johannes. Let him in."
That voice... it's Selma, I thought, a classmate from my days at the Knight Academy.
"But my lady," the guard protested, "your father gave us strict orders not to let anyone in until his return."
"Don't make me repeat myself," Selma said sharply. "Open the gates and let him in. Father won't mind his presence."
"And please, direct him to my quarters. I wish to speak with the gentleman."
The gates creaked open, and the guard escorted me through the manor.
Portraits lined every corridor; the halls echoed with the beauty of art from various kingdoms and provinces. Light was plentiful—chandeliers hung like crowns of the gods, bathing the halls in soft brilliance. The grand staircase was a masterpiece unto itself, with each step adorned by paintings of beautiful maidens and handsome gentlemen.
Truly, Paul Keller was a man of the arts.
We arrived at a door, and the guard knocked, saying,
"My lady, the gentleman awaits you."
The door creaked open, and Selma stretched out her hand in a welcoming gesture.
I knelt and kissed her hand.
"It is my pleasure to be graced by you, my lady," I said.
"Oh Johannes, please stop with the formalities—we are friends, remember?" she replied warmly.
"Of course. Friends since the early days of the Knight Academy. You were among the best—first in most categories, even a Grade 5, the first in the Keller household in over a century," I said.
Blushing, she replied,
"Oh, please stop! You flatter me... I couldn't stop thinking about you after you were expelled from the academy, following the incident with Peter. It saddened me deeply that you won't graduate with us in the coming months."
I sat on the edge of her bed, my gaze falling to the floor, my hands gripping each other tightly.
"No need to worry about me," I said quietly. "I just need to know... why? Why did all this happen?"
She knelt before me, placing her hands over mine.
"You say I shouldn't worry," she said softly, "but your body is wrapped in bandages. Even the gods would worry seeing you like this."
"Johannes, my heart aches when I see you suffer. Why do you wish to bring more trouble upon yourself? Please, let this matter rest. Peter was executed because he was a non-godblood found within the walls. The law demanded it."
I stood up, pulling my hands away from hers.
"How can you say that?" I said sharply. "Peter was more than a non-godblood. He was our friend, a student of the academy, an Ostinian! He didn't deserve death."
Before I could step away, Selma rushed forward, embracing me from behind. Her arms, soft as clouds, wrapped tightly around my waist.
"I'm sorry for my words," she whispered. "Peter was my friend too."
"Please, Selma... let go of me," I said. "I can't... Peter had feelings for you. I can't betray his memory."
Still holding me close, she spoke:
"What about my feelings? What about what I want? And what about your feelings, Johannes? I've always loved you... I still do. Your eyes reflect that love even now."
Gently, I pried her hands away from me and said,
"That was then, Selma... not now. I can't do this to Peter. And I came here to see your father."
"After all this time apart," she said, her voice trembling, "you choose to seek my father instead of me?"
"It's not like that, my lady. This is connected to the king's death and Peter's incident. Whoever orchestrated this seeks to harm others—and I must put an end to them."
"I don't like where this is going, Johannes," Selma said, her eyes narrowing. "Are you suggesting my father is the murderer of the king?"
"No, I am not," I answered. "But I am curious why your father, the rightful heir, has not ascended the throne, even though weeks have passed since the king's death."
"That's none of your concern," she said coldly. "It is his decision to make—not yours, and not mine."
"But it's not a matter of whose decision it is," I said firmly. "It's a matter of honesty and accountability—to bring justice where justice cannot reach. To honor the legacy of a friend."