Chapter 60: Chapter 59. The Chancellor’s Reputation
Gerhard de Eisenwald is born under the golden sun of the south, in lands where rivers ran deep and fertile, and fields of wheat, vineyards, and orchards stretched farther than the eye could see. Unlike the grim northern duchies or the Borgia Principality, Eisenwald’s strength didn’t come from steel and blood, but from earth and abundance.
The people of the south often said, "If the empire eats, it’s because of Eisenwald."
From the moment of his birth, Gerhard is tied to this prosperity. His family had ruled the duchy for centuries, the Eisenwald estates are famed for their vineyards, their olive groves, and their sprawling grain fields that fed both peasants and emperors. To the farmers, the duke is both lord and guardian; to the merchants, he’s the lifeline of their trade.
Gerhard himself, however, is not a pampered noble. From youth, he learned to ride across the fields, to understand the turning of the seasons, the work of plow and sickle, and the weight of the soil that gave the South its power. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with sun-browned skin from long hours spent among his people. His voice carried not only authority but also a familiarity that made peasants bow with respect rather than fear.
But the abundance of Eisenwald also made it a prize coveted by others. The emperor’s treasury is always hungry for southern gold, and rivals at court whispered that the Eisenwald dukes had grown too wealthy, too independent. Gerhard knew this well. Where others flaunted their riches, he used his power carefully, bribing where needed, funding loyal allies, and ensuring that Eisenwald’s prosperity always seemed tied to the empire’s survival.
In politics, Gerhard is shrewd, almost calculating. He dressed plainly in public, favoring southern linen and leather over the western silks, yet in private meetings he could summon feasts and wealth that humbled lesser lords.
Unlike Dietrich, whose greed made him reckless, Gerhard understood the difference between wealth and taste. His words in the imperial court were measured, but his influence is undeniable. It’s said that a single refusal from the Duke of Eisenwald could starve an army before it marched.
Gerhard’s private life reflected his land: fertile, warm, yet demanding. His wife, the omega, Lady Adeline, is a woman with wisdom who helped him balance ambition with patience. Together they had several children, and Gerhard raised them not only as nobles, but as stewards of the land.
He believed deeply that "A duke’s crown is not gold, but the soil that feeds his people."
Gerhard de Eisenwald’s dedication for the empire isn’t born out of blind loyalty but out of memory. In his youth, when the south was still recovering from years of drought and bandit raids, it was the late emperor who gave Eisenwald the chance to flourish.
With imperial backing, Gerhard secured exclusive trade rights with high nobles and the royal household, turning his fertile lands into the beating heart of Erengrad’s economy. Grain, wine, olive oil, fruits, everything the royal palace consumed often bore the Eisenwald crest.
It was a bond forged in mutual benefit. The empire fed, and Eisenwald grew rich. With every feast, every grand ball, every banquet at the palace, a portion of the gold flowed back south.
And as Chancellor, Gerhard had even more tools to ensure that flow never stopped. He carefully arranged contracts, ensured tariffs fell in his favor, and funneled wealth back to his family by making his territory the single most reliable supplier for the imperial court.
None could deny that under his watch, the empire’s stomach is always full. Soldiers marched with bread in their packs, nobles dined with southern wines in their goblets, and the royal family itself tasted Eisenwald’s wealth every day.
Yet now, under Emperor Dietrich, Gerhard found himself questioning everything. Dietrich is nothing like his father. Where the late emperor had been pragmatic, careful, and deeply respectful of the weight of power, Dietrich is reckless, impatient, and consumed by delusions.
He had squandered fortunes chasing assassins to kill Roxanne de Borgia, one of the royal blood. Because he’s chasing her omega, a soul-bonded omega, he wasted treasures trying to tear apart a bond that could not be broken and justified every failure by blaming others.
As Chancellor, Gerhard had watched the treasury shrink, not from famine or war, but from Dietrich’s obsessions. Worse still, the young emperor couldn’t be reasoned with. Every time Gerhard tried to speak sense, Dietrich dismissed him with arrogance, refusing to hear the voice of experience.
The Duke of Eisenwald began to wonder, "Is his loyalty to the empire or to the throne?" For the first time in decades, he feared the two might no longer be the same.
The irony isn’t lost on him: all his wealth, all his influence, all his careful plan, tied to an emperor who seemed determined to burn everything for the sake of possessing a woman already bound to another. Gerhard knew the empire’s foundation isn’t steel or pride; it comes from grain, trade, coin, and all the minerals with resources from the North.
Gerhard de Eisenwald had long felt that his extensive southern domains protected the empire from collapse. Bread nourished armies, wine soothed noble rivalries, and grain fueled trade. But lately, as the emperor squandered gold and the treasury bled dry, Gerhard could no longer dismiss the conversations of catastrophe that will be happening if all this keep on going.
Especially if the North ever decided to declare independence, the consequences would be catastrophic. They didn’t need southern crops, not anymore, not when their mountains glittered with minerals, and their forests bred monsters whose blood, bones, and hides were worth more than silver.
Roxanne de Borgia, with her principality’s strength, could barter with any neighboring kingdom. Iron for wheat, gems for bread, monster cores for luxuries. The North could survive without the South. But the empire? Without Eisenwald’s fields, without the North protecting them and they minerals, it would led directly to ruin.
When Roxanne de Borgia appeared in the palace, the air shifted. Gerhard felt it like the sting of the summer sun on his back. She strode with a sense of certainty drawing the gaze of nobles and soldiers alike. Where Dietrich’s hatred smoldered with arrogance, Roxanne’s flame is different, raw, dangerous, and surprisingly stable. She reminded Gerhard of the sun: cruel when left unchecked, but the source of all harvests.
Gerhard studied her in silence while the court trembled under her alpha dominance. Others bowed instinctively, cowed by her aura. Even Dietrich, the emperor himself, stiffened as though he might break under the pressure.
She’s a power manifestation, but power could burn fields to ashes as readily as it ripened the harvest. If Roxanne’s fame continued to rise, the empire would no longer exist. It would either break beneath her resistance or morph into something unrecognizable. And in that transition, Gerhard’s South would either blossom like a vineyard in the sun or burn like a field that had gone too long without rain.
For the first time in years, the Duke of Eisenwald found himself calculating risks that had nothing to do with crops or trade routes. His empire is changing now that more nobles are aware of Roxanne de Borgia’s beauty and the power she wields. He’d have to choose between the emperor, who no longer listened, and the fire that could destroy them all.