"Doringer's offspring?"
Liszt had a cascade of thoughts; no wonder after Doringer's death he always felt something was amiss, like an itch that couldn't be scratched. It turns out it didn't go according to the script; there was no grand emotional drama of nine sons vying for the inheritance.
As the Eastern Sea Lord, having no offspring? That was categorically impossible. There had to be some children, both openly and secretly.
Doringer may have died, but the framework of the old Eastern Sea interests he dominated hadn't completely collapsed. If someone were to step forward, even if it was Tang Shier, the beneficiaries of the old Eastern Sea would still rally around this person as a linchpin of cohesion, waiting for a chance to eliminate him and rise again.
