That morning, Ulrich sat in the quiet solitude of his study, his blood-red eyes locked onto a missive he had just received from the capital.
He had already broken the wax, leaving the royal seal fractured upon his desk. The letter lay open before him.
He read the contents carefully, analyzing every word. It was a formal writ of summons, explicitly ordering him to present himself at the capital.
From Ulrich's perspective, it was a displeasing piece of parchment. The missive was irritatingly vague; it offered no explanation for his sudden summoning. Yet, because it bore the king's seal, compliance was not optional. In the grand scheme of things, the lack of detail didn't change the fact that he had to go, but knowing the exact reason would have helped him determine just how urgent the matter truly was.
There was always the slight possibility that explicit reasons were intentionally omitted for security purposes. However, given how well Ulrich understood the politics of the capital, and exactly how the King worked, he highly doubted it.
Just as he was mulling over the political implications, a sudden, crisp knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.
"My Lord, Lord Strelley urgently wishes to speak with you," Fabian's composed voice rang out from the corridor.
With a casual flick of his fingers, Ulrich neatly folded the royal letter. "Let him in," he said putting aside the letter.
The door swung open, and Grandmaster Brian Strelley stepped into the expansive office. Fabian silently closed the door behind him, leaving the two men alone.
When the gentle thud of the latch engaging echoed through the room, Brian spoke. "Pardon my sudden intrusion and my urgent request to speak with you, Count Rubenhart," the old mage began respectfully.
"Have they posed any issues," Ulrich asked directly, cutting straight to the point.
It was the very first question that sprang to his mind, and the most logical reason he could imagine for Brian to abandon a lesson so quickly. Perhaps Airam had threatened him with that hidden knife of hers, or Hermione had launched into an impassioned string of insults. It could easily have been either.
But Brian merely shook his head, his expression unusually grave.
"No, my Lord. Actually, I have just instructed the young ladies to undergo a Core-Reading. It was not a comprehensive examination, but what I witnessed was more than enough to prompt some rather shocking conjectures," he explained, holding Ulrich's gaze with serious intent.
Ulrich stared at him in silence for a long moment, his face still unreadable. "What kind of conjectures, my Lord," he finally asked.
"They all possess Prismatic-Shaped Cores," Brian said, watching closely for the Count's reaction.
But Ulrich didn't so much as blink. He showed no surprise.
"As I suspected, my Lord. You did not adopt these three young witches for no reason," Brian sighed, not knowing what to make of the man sitting across from him.
He couldn't help but wonder: Attacking the hidden village, slaughtering them, and taking these three phenomenally gifted girls... had that been part of Ulrich's grand design from the very beginning? Had he intentionally orphaned them simply to force these poor, powerful children to become entirely dependent on him?
If that were true, Ulrich was a truly terrifying and ruthless man. Even knowing that the Count's own mother had been murdered by a Witch, and that he naturally harbored a deep-seated hatred for their kind, doing such a thing to three innocent young girls was horrifyingly cruel.
In truth, Brian was severely misunderstanding the situation. Ulrich had no real choice but to act on it once their hidden village had been discovered by outside forces. Perhaps from an outsider's perspective, his actions seemed like a malicious strike.
But Ulrich's initial plan had been to bring all three girls, along with their mother, safely back to his estate. He had never harbored any intention of making the sisters orphans.
Anna-Maria's death had been an unexpected complication.
In the quiet of his own mind, Ulrich still regretted neglecting that crucial variable. If Anna-Maria were still alive, managing and communicating with her three daughters would have been much easier.
"Is their nature a bother to you?" Ulrich asked abruptly, cutting through the silence.
The old Grandmaster merely chuckled at the question and shook his head, a smile spreading on his lips.
"Not at all. Rather, it has been a very long time since I felt such a bubbling, youthful excitement. I only wish to teach these talented girls," Brian said.
"Despite the fact that they are witches," Ulrich pointed out.
"I do not harbor the typical Skargardian hatred for their kind. Moreover, they are merely children. Only a mad man would show such innocent girls genuine hatred," Brian said softly and meaningfully.
Ulrich did not offer a reply.
Whether the old mage was attempting to send a hidden, pointed message about Ulrich's own well-known prejudices, Ulrich simply could not bring himself to care. It was a cold, indisputable fact that he hated witches, but he did not hate these girls. They had done nothing wrong. They hadn't even fully matured into their witch heritage yet. That was exactly why he was so determined to have them progress in a standard, acceptable version of magic.
"They need to learn proper magic and utilize their Cores. They cannot rely on their innate Veins," Ulrich said, his voice deadly serious.
Obviously, Ulrich harbored no underlying intentions of intentionally hindering their great potential. But for the time being, for their own survival, he needed them to be able to wield mana exactly like any ordinary person in Skargardia. They needed to mingle within the kingdom's culture. Now that they were officially part of his House, and citizens of a nation that actively hunted and loathed witches, blending in was their only shield.
"You may count on me, my Lord. I will gladly teach them and nurture their extraordinary talents," Brian assured him, bowing his head slightly before turning to leave.
But just as his hand brushed knob, Ulrich spoke again.
"Not a single word to anyone about their Cores," he said coldly.
He wanted that knowledge hidden until they came to age and were capable of defending themselves.
Brian paused, glancing back over his shoulder in mild surprise.
Was this strict demand born from a selfish fear of what political rivals might try to use against his House, or did it stem from a place of maybe protective concern for the girls' safety? It could easily be a complicated mixture of both. As expected, even a hardened, perceptive veteran like Brian found it nearly impossible to accurately read someone like Ulrich.
He was clearly not an ordinary man.
As he pondered this, a strange, prickling sensation suddenly washed over the old mage. Furrowing his brow in quiet confusion, Brian instinctively lowered his gaze, his eyes drawn directly toward Ulrich's chest.
"You may leave," Ulrich dismissed him sharply, catching the direction of the mage's stare.
Brian gave a final, stiff nod, choosing not to press the issue as he stepped out into the hallway to return to his new students. He hadn't lied to the Count.
Regardless of the political danger or Ulrich's hidden motives, he was truly thrilled to teach the girls and witness their miraculous with his own two eyes.