What would it have been like if I had been there from the start?
One thing was certain: I wouldn't have been bewitched by that girl from House de Bosch and turned cruel toward Daniela.
How could I ever dislike someone this beautiful?
I might have been jealous of the Crown Prince for having Daniela, perhaps.
No.
More likely, I would have graduated the academy early and come north. And if that had been the case—
This feeling would have been inevitable, not coincidence. That much seemed undeniable.
I wanted to believe that.
"Daniela, I'm in pain."
"It looked like you took a hit earlier — are you all right?"
"Come closer and look. I think I'm wounded."
Daniela drew near to where I lay.
I was feigning injury, playing the part of a man laid low — but the Crown Prince's fist hadn't been that strong.
There was a slight cut inside my mouth, nothing more.
And a man of the North was not so fragile as to be undone by someone who had never fought a day in his life.
"Come closer. I'm in pain."
"Really?"
Flustered, Daniela sat at the edge of the bed and leaned her face toward mine.
That distance was enough.
Close enough that her hair just barely grazed me — that was all I needed.
I cupped the back of her neck.
Slowly raising myself up, I claimed her lips.
I hoped she would take it as praise for a job well done.
"Wh — what are you doing, all of a sudden. Grand Duke."
"There's no one here. And I was jealous."
"What? Out of nowhere..."
"Not jealous, exactly. Closer to... disliking something."
I cupped the back of her neck again.
She made a show of resisting — *This isn't right, Grand Duke* — but there was no real force in it anywhere.
If anything, she pressed further into my arms, leaning her body against mine entirely.
I kissed her once more.
*Chu* — the soft sound of lips meeting seemed to echo through the room.
But this wasn't the end.
We had been kissing for a while now. Was it too much to want something more?
"What was it that displeased you so?"
"Nothing in particular. I just hated that the Crown Prince still looks at you that way."
"Why?"
"No one should be allowed to look at Daniela like that. At least not in front of me."
When the Crown Prince and Daniela had faced each other —
What on earth had been going through their minds?
I was neither Daniela nor the Crown Prince. There was no way to know what lay in their hearts.
Now they stood opposed because of mutual revulsion.
But they had once been bound for a political marriage.
There had to be at least some lingering attachment, even if born of resentment.
"I hate it. I wish Daniela had come to the North from the very beginning."
"You've grown quite spoiled, haven't you. Grand Duke?"
"Does that bother you?"
I said it with my arms wrapped tightly around her.
She shook her head and told me no.
It was only possible because no one else was here — but I needed somewhere to rest, too.
The title of Grand Duke of the North hadn't come without a price, after all.
It was a position that carried no small weight.
"No. Grand Duke."
"What if Daniela had come to the North from the beginning? Then we wouldn't have needed to face that Crown Prince at all."
Not that I feared fighting the Crown Prince. That wasn't it.
That held no fear for me. If anything, I had welcomed it. There was no reason to be afraid of dealing with an ordinary man who amounted to nothing.
But I had only one concern.
I hated the way the Crown Prince looked at her — that revolting, sweeping gaze.
A visceral disgust, one might call it. The same urge to recoil you feel when you see a cockroach or some hideous insect.
Yes. Disgust was the right word.
"I..."
"I know, Daniela. That you have no interest in the Crown Prince whatsoever."
"I'm glad."
"Even so, I hate it. I felt it today, watching them. I need to break him properly. There's no other way."
"Grand Duke..."
"That's why I did it."
It was Daniela pressing into my arms, not the other way around —
and yet it was I who felt comforted.
Perhaps the Crown Prince had become what he was because Daniela had never been at his side.
If I had shared my heart with that girl from House de Bosch,
the situation might have been reversed.
But that would never happen.
The Crown Prince had thrown away a blessing that had come to him. I had received it instead.
"I deserve some praise."
"Pardon?"
"Even the Grand Duke of the North wants to be praised sometimes. So come here."
I kissed her again.
This time it was different from anything before.
I didn't pull her tightly against me.
But then — boldly —
I breached the closed warmth of Daniela's lips.
I traced along the edges of her teeth,
and savored the feeling of tongue meeting tongue.
The wet, drawn-out sound was somehow louder than before, filling the silence between us.
"Ah!"
The moment felt stretched long — but then Daniela suddenly shoved me away with a sharp push.
In the same instant, her hand flew toward my cheek with a crisp *smack*.
*Striking the Grand Duke — and right where the Crown Prince had hit him earlier!*
"Oh! Oh! I'm so sorry! Grand Duke!"
"Wh — what was that."
"I was so embarrassed. I was just so embarrassed."
She pressed her hand to the cheek she had just struck.
One thing was certain: it had hurt more than the Crown Prince's punch.
*Her hand is surprisingly sharp. I'd better not push my luck.*
"I'm sorry. Truly. I was just so embarrassed."
"Ah. Right. Yes."
*Crash, thud —*
The guards outside suddenly burst in.
Perhaps they had heard what sounded like a cry of pain.
"Your Highness, the Grand Duke! What has happened!"
"Has an assassin come!"
There was nothing like an interruption from others to dissolve an awkward atmosphere.
I laughed — *Ha!* — and told them they could go.
Daniela's face had gone a vivid, burning red.
But more than that face,
I found myself rather fond of the cheek she had just slapped.
One might mistake that for masochism, but it was nothing of the sort.
I simply hadn't expected her to be quite that embarrassed.
"It's fine! Everything's fine!"
Everything would be fine.
—
That evening.
The marquis assembly convened in earnest.
Nearly every holder of a marquis title on the continent had gathered,
along with a great many other nobles besides.
The host, Marquis Roland, would put forward the agenda items, and the assembly would either ratify them or continue deliberating.
In truth, there was little in the way of enforcement,
and much that the laws of the Empire could not touch.
The trade arrangement between the North and House Barth, in particular, was not something that could simply be blocked.
"Is the North truly capable of that?"
The question came from the Callum marquis.
I had heard that House Callum was under considerable pressure from the Empire these days and not wielding much influence.
And yet, with the wealth they held, they stood at the head of the noble faction.
A house that was, in all but name, at odds with the Imperial family.
Did he know that at the center of it all was his own foolish son, Riroy?
"That is not yours to deliberate."
I was seated among them.
Under ordinary circumstances, if word of a gathering like this had reached me, I would have ignored it entirely and pretended not to know.
This was, I believed, nearly the first time I had attended a southern noble assembly.
But one thing was plain to me.
By instinct, if nothing else — however capable these people fancied themselves, they were not in a position to fight the North.
"This is a matter of consequence. The gold veins running through the Barth estate are of considerable importance."
"That I know. But House Barth is not giving away gold for free, is it?"
"It is a vital mineral resource of the Empire. Surely that warrants—"
"And so you intend to purchase it at fair value, do you not."
The conversation was going in circles.
The intent was simple enough. Since they likely couldn't stop it anyway,
they wanted to at least establish some minimal foothold of influence within the Barth estate.
It was transparent enough to see through at a glance.
"The North's army garrisoned at House Barth — how can that be acceptable?"
"That, too, is not yours to decide."
"The Barth estate is not a region under threat from nomadic tribes. I fail to see why such a presence would be necessary."
House Callum seemed to fear the deployment of northern forces.
The gold veins were, after all, a matter between the Imperial family and House Barth —
and from the moment their relationship with the Imperial family had soured, House Callum had been doing everything in its power to carve House Barth away.
House Callum's purpose was straightforward.
To pressure House Barth,
other variables had to be removed.
And the very existence of the North was far too large a variable.
"I will say it once more: our army is where it belongs. That is not a matter for your deliberation."
"But should the nomadic forces launch an invasion, the consequences would be severe."
"When that day comes, I will endeavor to recall the North's supreme commander. But that day is not today."
The people in this room had little understanding of nomadic armies.
They were fearsome — swift and ferocious as monsters in their attacks — but they were still only men.
In a winter like this, no one was more vulnerable than the nomads.
"According to Imperial law—"
"Yes. Sending armies south without cause is not something done lightly. But then and now are different matters."
"Grand Duke of the North. Throwing a tantrum will not resolve anything."
I looked at the men of House Callum and let a slow smile cross my face.
House Callum was likely preparing for the war to come.
What if we — or House Barth — sided with the Imperial family? That was their fear.
"I wonder if you've heard the news that the North has declared independence."
"Independence?"
*Murmur — murmur —*
The single greatest bombshell of the noble assembly had just been dropped.
The North had declared independence.
The North now held complete autonomy.
It was no longer an army that served the Emperor — it had become an army that answered to one lord alone: the Grand Duke.
"Imperial law? I know it well. But there is no reason for an independent nation to abide by such laws."
"Even so, Imperial recognition is still required, and furthermore—"
"I am aware."
But anything beyond this begins to sound rather like interference in our internal affairs.
That single line was all that needed to be said.