Chapter 13: Inheritance

"I underestimated you." The duke's voice was devoid of life, as if he was spitting out each word one by one. "You have always stayed out of politics, so I never took precautions against you. I thought you were like those military ministers—stubborn but lacking intelligence. I didn't expect you to notice anything unusual and even negotiate an alliance with the original enemy, putting on a good show for us."

"Those who manipulate power must have intelligence. But not all who stay out of it are fools," Roland, the captain, replied coolly.

The duke nodded slowly. An overwhelming desire can obscure reason. Focusing too much on certain things prevents one from grasping the overall situation and its subtle changes. If one is distracted by a single leaf, one cannot see the whole forest.

He knew these truths, but having been immersed in the world of power for so long, his vision was limited to the strategies of political maneuvering.

Roland pointed to Asa. "Though I don't know him well, and the incident where our members were killed by a necromancer made me suspicious of him, I can at least tell that the wounds on the bishop do not look like they were inflicted by someone who cannot even wield a sword. You've tried to conceal the wounds, but in my eyes, it's too obvious."

The duke managed a bitter smile. He realized that he had overlooked the insight of the empire's greatest swordsman.

"Perhaps that's because your trap was too perfect. You had no reason to worry about the details," Roland continued with a hint of admiration, though there was no friendliness in his gaze. "The previous necromancer incident that killed members of the Knights Templar, the bishop's personally signed arrest warrant, and the testimony of over a hundred priests—such evidence and witnesses are impossible to refute. Even if I suspected something was amiss, I had no choice but to follow the path you laid out for me."

"If it weren't for the bishop's strange attitude during the previous necromancer incident, I would never have dared to negotiate with a necromancer. I wouldn't have discovered the truth about that arrest warrant. Since the person being pursued couldn't be the killer, there are only a few people in the capital who could be the real murderer. Piecing together some clues and your behavior at the scene, I could almost confirm that you were the killer," Roland's voice grew sharper. "Why did you kill Bishop Ronis?"

"Why?" The duke laughed bitterly. "Because he stood in my way, and I stood in his. He aimed to strike first, so it was either me or him."

"What exactly happened?"

"I'm too tired to explain. Now that you've taken control, you can slowly investigate the truth," the duke sighed. "But even if you and that necromancer ally together, with what you know and your capabilities, you could never have reached this point." He turned slowly to look at Rodhart. There was no anger in his eyes from being betrayed, only a deadening sense of despair. "There must have been a lot of his arrangements involved; I just don't know how you managed to bring him on your side."

"We didn't bring him on our side; he chose to believe in his friends and justice," Roland looked at Rodhart, admiration evident in his eyes. "After discussing things with the old man, I suspected you but didn't know how to proceed. Then he came to me. He told me he believed his friend was not a spy for the necromancer guild and that there must be more to the story."

Asa looked at Rodhart with some surprise.

Though the focus had shifted to him, Rodhart stood straight and composed, still offering Asa a warm smile.

"You must understand that anyone who dares to stand up for their friend in such a situation must possess insight, responsibility, and confidence in their judgment. So I trusted him and shared all my suspicions. As for his decision to infiltrate you, that was his own suggestion. We could use your plan to our advantage—this was all his idea."

"His idea…" The duke pondered, a flicker of life igniting in his otherwise deadened eyes. It was as if a stagnant pool of murky water suddenly received a stimulus, stirring up a bit of vitality. He looked at Rodhart. "I remember you participated in the campaign against the necromancer."

"Yes," Rodhart nodded, answering with his usual politeness and humility.

"According to Captain Roland, you immediately sought him out after the battle to express your trust in your friend and in justice." The duke's voice had gained some strength; a hint of a wry smile appeared on his lips.

Rodhart nodded, a touch of regret in his sigh. "I was shocked when I received the order about Bishop Ronis's assassination. The scene was chaotic, and I hesitated for a moment, which is why I couldn't stop Captain Roland and the old man from fighting. Thankfully, they managed to discern the situation themselves."

The duke considered this and nodded slowly. His expression was still one of despair, disappointment, and sorrow, but there was a change. It was as if through his long entanglement with the complexities of power, he had regained a glimmer of vitality. "I once said I knew you were perceptive and decisive, but now I realize I underestimated you."

He forced out a slight smile. "I thought I was raising a cat that hadn't yet become a tiger, only to find it was a tiger disguised as a cat, ready to swallow me whole. Still, I'm somewhat comforted to realize I'm not defeated so foolishly; it's just that a new generation has replaced the old."

"I'm sorry. It's not personal, Duke," Rodhart's expression was earnest and sincere, as if a child were trying to convey his feelings to an adult. "I'm simply doing what I believe is right."

"Such grace. Such insight," the duke nodded, smiling faintly. His smile was bitter, yet there seemed to be an understanding behind it, like a defeated player in an intricate and profound card game, recognizing the skill of his opponent even in defeat. He felt the frustration and sadness of loss, but also a sense of admiration and a hint of camaraderie.

However, those around him clearly could not comprehend the depth of meaning in his eyes. Roland sighed, feeling a tinge of regret that such a cunning adversary would surrender so quickly and completely. "Honestly, I didn't expect you to give up the moment we appeared. I thought you'd at least put up a struggle or try to defend yourself."

"Since you both dared to appear before me at the same time, it shows you have no intention of allowing me any chance to fight back. In this situation, there is no power play or scheme that can change the outcome. Should I really not realize that?" The duke's gaze swept over Roland and the old man, calm and composed. "For you two, killing me is as easy as killing a chicken. Why should I die a more disgraceful death than a chicken?"

Roland looked at the duke in silence for a moment before sighing. "With your intelligence, you could have made a name for yourself in history, regardless of how you applied it. You didn't need to rush; you could have taken your time, and in ten years or so, perhaps the entire empire would have been yours. Why did you have to tread down this path of power until it led to your downfall?"

The duke paused, reflecting. Looking back, it did seem that way. If he hadn't gone so far, would it have been better?

But after a moment, the duke shook his head, a bitter smile forming. It was impossible, for he had already begun this journey. Once embarked, one cannot simply stop. With each victory comes new goals, and the desire to climb higher and stronger… In that moment, the duke recalled a story he had told his daughter long ago about magical dancing shoes that forced the wearer to dance to death. He was the one who loved to dance, and power and ambition were those magical shoes that, once worn, drove a person to madness and death.

Roland's words interrupted the duke's train of thought: "Your mistake lies in your excessive ambition and strong desires."

"I said I wasn't wrong; I was defeated," the duke suddenly stood up, his voice regaining its vigor. "I am not wrong. I am not the first to walk the path of power and ambition, nor will I be the last. I simply failed, falling to the roadside. Others will follow in my footsteps and climb higher over my corpse." The duke's eyes, however, did not look at anyone but were fixed on the ceiling, his expression grave, like a lonely believer reciting a personal Bible. "The reason I failed is that I became too proud, too enamored with the power of ambition. Strong desires can obscure reason. When one focuses too much on certain things, they cannot perceive the whole picture and the subtle changes within it. If one is distracted by a single leaf, one cannot see the entire forest. Only by broadening one's perspective and not fixating on immediate matters can one go further. Pursuing power without becoming obsessed allows one to attain true power. My successors will certainly learn from my lessons and go further than I ever could."

Asa had been silent, quietly listening to the conversation between the duke and Roland. Rodhart listened attentively as well. Meanwhile, Sandru seemed to be lost in thought, occasionally lowering his head or glancing around.

The duke lowered his head, scanning everyone's faces, and spoke calmly, "I will say it again: I am not wrong; I simply failed." He sat back down, picked up a slender sword from the table, and turned its point toward his chest, plunging it into himself.

Asa instinctively stepped forward, but seeing that both Roland and Sandru did not move, he halted.

The slender sword pierced the duke's body, emerging from his back and through the chair, blood continually soaking through his chest. The blade had driven straight through his heart.

With a pained yet calm expression, the duke sighed. He met Asa's strange gaze with a slightly pained voice, "Sometimes I think, someone like you, who doesn't pursue anything, might be a bit foolish, but it really is quite easy..." As the blood expanded on his chest and the back of the chair, his voice faded, and his head slowly drooped. Finally, he died.

The study room was silent; everyone except Sandru stared at the duke's lifeless body in varying degrees of disbelief. After a while, Asa suddenly asked, "Why let him commit suicide?"

"Regardless, he was going to die. Suicide is the same," Roland replied.

"That's not what I meant. I mean, if he just dies like this, we can't produce any evidence. Will others believe he killed the bishop?"

"Naturally, others won't believe it. And there's no need for them to."

Asa was taken aback. "Then… I…"

"I'm sorry." Although Roland said he was sorry, his gaze toward Asa was calm, as if he felt no obligation to apologize. "You're still a wanted man. The blame for killing the bishop will still fall on you."

"Why?" Asa couldn't understand; the true culprit had already been dealt with, yet this burden couldn't be lifted.

"Duke Murak's reputation is good both in court and among the public. His influence is significant; you know that."

"I know." Asa nodded. The duke's reputation was not just good; combined with his current powerful influence, he had become the common goal for ambitious figures across the empire.

"If we suddenly announce that he was actually the murderer of Bishop Ronis, there would certainly be an uproar in both the court and the public. What would happen to the image of someone seen as so virtuous, capable, and upright, if it suddenly collapsed?"

"I don't know," Asa shook his head.

"Externally, it would be a major scandal for the empire. The empire's reputation would suffer among other nations, and the relationship between the church and the empire would undoubtedly be affected. Internally, the trust of the people and lower officials in the court would plummet. In such turmoil, who knows what would happen to those officials and merchants who were previously aligned with the duke? In short, it would be detrimental to the empire. So, the news that the duke was indeed the murderer must not be spread. Only those present here can know the truth."

"So I must bear the burden?" Asa frowned.

"I'm sorry." Roland sighed, seeming to regard Asa with a weighty look. "I also don't wish for you to be caught. After all, such a substantial bounty is a considerable burden on the empire's treasury."

"Well, you've gotten used to being wanted. What's the big deal about being wanted again?" Sandru glanced at him wearily. "Besides, this bounty might benefit you. If I remember correctly, the necromancer guild's bastards are also after you, right? This bounty can help keep you alert."

Asa sighed helplessly and replied, "Fine. I suppose it's useless to refuse. But since the duke isn't the murderer of Bishop Ronis, how do you explain his death?"

"Obviously, you killed him," Roland said nonchalantly. "Since you've already taken on such a heavy charge, you shouldn't care about one more. Don't worry; this is merely a temporary measure, and when the time is right, we will help you clear your name."

"I didn't expect that after the true culprit dies, all his charges would fall on me." Asa smiled helplessly, suddenly remembering. "But if I am still the murderer, then… what about Elaine? She… she was with me..."

"Right. According to what you said, she also has something to inherit. It's just a bit different from yours," Roland nodded and turned to Rodhart. "You go bring her here."