Timurtaş, after hearing the theory that his beloved Martha was killed by the Kaiser, breaks his silence for the first time in nine years. It had taken nearly a decade for this piece of information to reach his ears. The Kaiser, for his part, still had hope in Wolfram, as he saw in him a better candidate than his own son. The Kaiser's son had turned out to be a disappointment—a passive heir, someone unfit to lead the empire. He could not entrust the empire to him. That's why the Kaiser wanted to raise Wolfram, to mold him in his own way, to shape him into the kind of ruler he envisioned.
The Kaiser intended to raise Wolfram according to Catholic principles, to impose his own culture upon him. He saw in the boy a chance to create a future ruler who could surpass even his own son. Meanwhile, Timurtaş, though distant and silent for those nine long years, now stood at the edge of his own cultural conflict. Would Wolfram grow up under the Kaiser's influence, adopting the faith and culture of the Holy Roman Empire, or would Timurtaş find a way to ensure that his own legacy, the legacy of the Sons of Ashina, would live on in Wolfram?
The battle for Wolfram's identity was not fought with swords, but in the quiet halls of power and influence. The Kaiser, seeking to imprint the future Holy Roman Emperor with the traditions and beliefs of the West, and Timurtaş, haunted by the past and the possibility that Wolfram might be his own blood, each sought to guide the boy in their own way.