“Congratulations! You’re the Duke now.” Wolf materialized next to Wayde.

He smiled with half his mouth, looking down and scratching the back of his head. “Sorry it took so long. If I knew they were this weak, we could’ve made you Duke years ago.”

Wolf felt awkward for delaying his and Wayde’s revenge. He played it safe, but the enemy turned out feeble beyond words.

Wayde gave a hollow, powerless laugh. “It’s fine. You wrapped things up quickly.”

Wayde wanted to settle his family matter with his own two hands. He planned to raise a grand army, fight a justified war and, after a long struggle, heroically defeat his uncle on the field of battle, regaining his birthright.

He craved the reputation of a hero defending justice, who reclaimed his lawful right. This turn of events was anticlimactic. History would remember Wayde as a ruler who received his throne on a silver platter.

However, advantages existed. Matters were settled thirty years earlier than Wayde’s best-case scenario. He lost nothing and owed little. He incurred debts to Wolf and Edwin for sheltering him and his mother.

Who cares? I will establish my reputation in the coming years. Thirty extra years of being a Duke will allow me to build a better name and domain. I will repeat what I did in Hillman marquisate and establish the most powerful and respected dukedom.

Then, nobody will give me garbage about my ascension to the throne. And I owe it all to Wolf’s we…

“Do you need help?” Wolf finally became aware he had made Wayde, a rebel, the Duke.

“I have been in touch with my grandfather’s greatest supporters these past few years, so I have allies with armed forces.” Wayde shook his head. “They don’t have enough manpower to go to war, but it’s sufficient to guarantee my safety for now.”

In reality, his circumstances were better than Wayde expected. Wolf’s proclamation scared off his enemy’s followers, forcing them into packing their wealth and fleeing the duchy with their families. Nobody was crazy enough to fight a man able to dispatch a pair of True-Namers and a powerful Sword-Sage in seconds.

Wolf nodded, and following Wayde’s instructions, turned into the abominable eagle and flew Wayde over to Braille estate, letting him land and handle his own affairs.

It’s been two weeks, Wolf thought, dissipating into mist above the fortified mansion. I should hurry back and check how my son's doing, but since I’m in Shield City, there’s someone I should meet.

The thin cloud turned towards Shield City’s Mage Academy. Wolf observed the campus from the air and found it in stark contrast with the rest of Shield City. The complex looked the same as Silver City’s, free of walls and fortifications.

Are they all identical? Wolf never thought about it when he visited other academies. He knew that the main administrative building and its surroundings were the same across all Mage Academies he saw, but he never strayed far during his visits.

Looking at the compound from this great height, Wolf noticed a pattern. It’s a giant seal.

Buildings of varying quality and materials were arranged with care and established nodes, while greenery and flowers formed rough runes. It’s crude, but it should work.

Wolf touched down outside the gate and condensed, feeling slight reverence towards Mage Academy’s founding fathers and mothers. When his form solidified, a smartly dressed man approached him.

“Lord Hillman, I presume?” he asked the hulk.

Wolf nodded.

“Yes, Sir. And who might you be?” His tone was polite. He had no enmity with the Mage Academy staff and he’d come here for an audience with the Headmaster.

“I’m Ronald, Headmaster’s personal assistant. Sir is expecting you. Would you please join him for a cup of tea?” Ronald spoke with courtesy, but without subservience, a model of a proper butler inviting an esteemed guest.

He’s like Richard. Wolf smiled and nodded once more.

“Please.” He gestured for Ronald to show the way, even though he knew where the Headmaster’s office was.

Ten minutes later, Wolf walked into a tidy room, exactly like Headmaster Smith’s. Unlike Richard, who always stayed inside for his talks with Headmaster Smith, Ronald left when Wolf entered the room.

“Sit, young man.” The Headmaster appeared youthful and smiled warmly, despite his droopy eyes and slumped shoulders.

“Yes, Sir.” Wolf obeyed the instruction and sat on a guest chair. His chin quivered, but he steeled his face. “Would your honored name be Michael?”

He doesn’t appear to be a kook, like old Smith. He looks tired.

“It is. I see Archie told you about me.” Michael straightened his posture, pushing his shoulders back. “I didn’t expect him to have a kid. He never showed interest in the fairer sex when we were young. May I ask some insensitive questions?”

Even though Michael sat straight and his eyes drooped less, he failed to conceal his fatigue. Wolf focused on his features and skin, but Shield City’s Headmaster was in perfect health. He’s worn out mentally.

Wolf nodded after two breaths of silence.

Michael smiled. A smidgeon of his weariness disappeared with Wolf’s nod. “How did my junior spend his last days? What kind of woman stole his heart? I would like to know if it isn’t too inconvenient. Also, if you’re fine with it, could you tell me why he ended his life?”

Headmaster’s melancholy drowned Wolf. Why does he miss Dad so much?

He took out two cups and a wineskin full of South’s wine. He poured a cup and offered it to Michael.

“No, thanks.” Michael waved his hand. “I’ve been drinking tea these last few decades.”

He paused for a moment, then shook his head. “I apologize. I’m an improper host. I haven’t offered you anything to eat or drink…”

Drinking tea and wine, the young man spoke, remembering and honoring his father. Wolf narrated a censored version of his parents’ relationship. He explained how Archibald met a wounded woman, nursed her to health, and had a child with her, only for the woman to succumb to her lingering injuries.

Wolf skipped their venture into the far north, instead describing the journey to Silverhound and the fateful battle in which Archibald perished.

Michael remained quiet during Wolf’s storytelling, only sighing or smiling from time to time. However, when Wolf mentioned the Yellow River incident, the ancient Headmaster finally spoke.

“I thought so.” Michael whispered. “When I saw the report about the seventeenth legion’s destruction, I thought of Archie. This whole affair is regrettable. Northshield duchy used to be one of the strongest, but after that bloody civil war, it became one of the weakest. And now we lost two more True-Namers.”

Michael looked Wolf in the eye. “Your father was a straight man. Too straight. Because of a simple kindness his mother received from the Duke and the obligation he felt, Archie entered the political waters and joined the court instead of staying at the Mage Academy and protecting humankind.”

Michael sighed, then drilled into Wolf’s soul with his eyes. “Mages should steer away from politics. Tell me, did you use vengeance as a pretext to place your friend in power, or was it the other way round?”

“I’m not sure.” Wolf admitted after a pause, pressured by that tired glare.

“You are aware that was me telling you to stay clear of worldly matters, not me inquiring about your motives?” Michael clarified, in case Wolf was as dense as he looked.

“I am. But, even if your question was hypothetical, it was a good one.” Wolf snorted, his lips twisted in a derisive smile. “I’ve wondered the same thing after tossing that wretched coward off the bulwarks.”

Wolf then hesitated and dropped his gaze. Ask, or you may regret it.

“Sir.” Wolf lifted his head and met the Headmaster’s gaze. “Could you… Could you tell me about my father? What was he like in his youth? Did you go on any adventures? He told me how you visited Dragon’s Forest together?”

Michael smiled, thinking how his old friend made himself a fine son. “Sure. Archie was always serious and glum…”

Wolf concentrated, committing every word to memory. Sometimes he laughed, sometimes grit his teeth, or thought his father was hopeless in social interactions, but he never interrupted the Headmaster, listening raptly as his eyes gleamed.

Hours flew by. Wolf contrasted the hollow vengeance with the sense of warmth and fulfillment he hadn’t experienced in a long while. Hearing about his father’s struggles and dangers he faced, his failures and successes were tens of times more thrilling than novels.

“I have other people to entertain now. Sorry,” the Headmaster gave a rueful smile. He could’ve spent days exchanging stories with Wolf, even though he noticed the young man hiding unfavorable details from him.

“Sir, do you mind if I use your Hall of Names?” Wolf tried his luck, but unexpectedly, Michael shook his head.

“I don’t mind. However, we have a long queue of Archmages using it. Our Mage Academy halved the Hall of Names’ Student Credit cost, since our duchy is lacking True-Namers. We nearly recuperated to the bare minimum, but today, two died.”

Michael’s voice didn’t show a hint of reproach, but guilt still squeezed Wolf’s guts. He could have spared Lord of Snow, but he executed him to be safe.