Several days had passed. Daniela was being treated with honors befitting a Grand Duchess — not quite the title itself, but close enough. Without a formal marriage, she could not be fully recognized as Grand Duchess. Yet within Winter Castle, it had already become common understanding that she would be.
If there is a woman sharing a room with His Grace the Grand Duke, then she must be the Grand Duchess. Who could possibly argue with logic that plain?
The concern lay with those who were paying attention to the rumor. The North's bureaucrats and nobles were no issue. Where in the North would anyone dare defy Wintergard? And if someone did raise an objection, House de Wintergard would step forward to crush it.
Besides, there would be no grounds whatsoever. If the Grand Duke of the North declared this woman to be his wife, who could cast a stone? Well — occasionally, someone might.
"The rumor is already spreading?"
"Yes, Your Grace. That the Grand Duke of the North has chosen his consort, and that she is none other than..."
He trailed off. Dorgon was reading the room, visibly worried that speaking carelessly might cause offense. I told him it was fine.
"Because she was the Crown Prince's former fiancée, there are those who say that a marriage would require consultation with the Empire as well."
"Hmm... What do you think?"
"Preposterous! I'd like to know what fool has the nerve to say such a thing."
I agreed. In the South, political marriages were natural — they knew how such things worked. But the North was different. There was a reason it had been called the Kingdom of Exiles. People driven out of the South had settled here, and that was the slur they'd been given for it.
"And yet the Empire thinks it can demand consultation from us?"
"An absurd question indeed, Your Grace. My guess is they're wary of House Barth."
On the surface, that made sense. If a family already enjoying the Emperor's favor were to also command the strength of the North, the political landscape itself could shift. The factions that had already split over a woman named Kartina would have every reason to be on guard.
"Right. That would be it. So the factions have clearly divided?"
"Still confirming the details, but the outline is taking shape."
In the South, one faction had formed around House Darapont — led by the Southern Admiral. A formidable naval power. They commanded a great fleet, suppressing pirates and sustaining maritime trade. The count held only that rank, but he was not of Imperial noble stock.
"I know that son of his."
"A common man, nothing more. Had I been there, I would have cut him down regardless of the circumstances."
"Leo was only following my orders. What about the others?"
House Callum. They held the rank of marquess and had reportedly fought a bloody feud with House Barth in the past. They had once operated the largest merchant consortium within the Empire, but were said to be a shadow of their former selves now. Pure wealth accumulation was no longer happening for them.
"Looks like the Empire has them on a leash too. Am I right?"
"Precisely, Your Grace. They are still heavily checked within the Empire, and things will only grow harder for them."
"I'd like to receive a report on their territory."
"I will have it prepared shortly."
The western Empire. There was another marquess house there — a place long called the Kingdom of Sand. It hadn't been mentioned much in the novel, but its marquess had also fallen under Kartina's spell and formed a faction. The last I recalled, they had... raised their banners and then...
"I can't remember. House Kadla shouldn't be that powerful."
"In truth, they struggled the most to build their faction. They have no great wealth, nor do they wield much influence within the Empire — but attacking Marquess Kadla is a rather difficult undertaking."
"Similar to the North in that regard?"
"Though it is desert, the roads connecting it are numerous enough that one might say the whole region is interlinked."
Not easy. We had only just finished connecting our own roads. I ordered an investigation into that region as well, but the answer that came back was that it couldn't be done. The Kingdom of Sand was deeply insular — their rejection of outsiders was extreme. A Northerner would stand out immediately.
"There was also one in the East. The place that used to run the mage tower."
"House Kitan is among them as well, but they are currently the weakest. Your Grace knows better than anyone that it is no longer the mage tower it once was."
"True enough."
The master of the Eastern Mage Tower had passed the position down through bloodline. But the current tower master was not of that lineage — someone new had risen to the position, and as a result, many mages had defected. The largest outflow had been to the North; one only had to cross the mountain range to arrive there.
And the North had always had plenty of work. Whether for money or for purpose, coming to the North had at one point been not a choice but a necessity.
That was part of why we had been able to build so many furnaces.
"Moreover, their recent magical research output has already dwindled to near nothing. They are essentially coasting on their reputation at this point."
"Complacency is dangerous. Verify everything thoroughly and submit a full report."
"As you command."
Nearly four factions already. The goal of these young lords was to claim the victorious heroine — the Crown Prince's fiancée. In the novel, Kartina had stepped in during the height of the war and brought things to an end. But that depiction had not been precise. What lay in between, and how it would ultimately conclude — no one could predict.
After all, Daniela — who was supposed to be dead — was here in the North.
"Dorgon. What do you think about the duchy?"
"A sound idea, Your Grace. We have no trust left in the Empire — how could we possibly seek to remain its vassals?"
"That's actually quite an impertinent thing to say. The Grand Duke is sent as a representative of the Imperial Emperor."
I thought it over carefully. A justification was needed. One that would leave the Emperor, the Crown Prince, and every other house without a word to say. Of course, I could simply ignore justification and force the matter through.
Hmm. Should I?
"Deputy Minister Hergel's point stands, Your Grace. Perhaps you ought to express your anger."
"Yes, but — what exactly should I be angry about?"
"Your Grace, if I may be so bold — in my humble view, there are far too many reasons to choose from."
When Wintergard — guardian of the Empire's frontier and the Emperor's own representative — was beset by civil war, what did the Empire do? Nothing. It simply looked away.
As I worked to make the North a place worth living in, what did the Empire do? Nothing. The support that occasionally arrived was laughably insufficient, and the fighting against the nomads fell entirely to the soldiers of the North. Those living in the South had never once faced a nomadic army.
And if those grievances were not enough —
"If the Empire now presumes to treat the Grand Duke's choice of consort as a matter requiring Imperial consultation, what greater violation of our autonomy could there be?"
"That alone isn't enough, Dorgon."
"Then might I suggest adding this?"
A demand for the full sum of all support funds that had never been sent to the North. In plain terms: the receipt had been written, and it was time to settle the outstanding tab. Demanding payment of an overdue bill was the prerogative of the proprietor. If the customer refused to pay, they had better be prepared for the consequences.
And nothing would be more unsettling to the Empire than that. Because no one had ever demanded it before.
"Combined with three grounds for grievance, if we also demand compensation from the Empire, they will have no choice but to seek another way out."
"So rather than accepting the money, we demand elevation to a duchy?"
"At that point, Your Grace will need to be rather rude about it."
"Why?"
"Only if we make our anger plain will they grasp the gravity of the situation."
Dorgon's words had a certain logic to them. Even those who prized justification found hollow justification useless. But nothing was more concrete than a bill placed directly under one's nose. And the cheapest way to make that bill go away —
Was to hand them back their facade.
"Excellent. Dorgon, summon Hergel at once and have him draft a proper document. Begin preparations to depart."
"Might I go myself, Your Grace?"
"No. There is someone far better suited for this."
There was exactly one person perfectly suited for it.
I left the Hall of Winter and walked slowly toward my study. A duchy — below the Emperor, but in practice an independent sovereign. The Imperial Emperor formally acknowledging that fact.
I entered the study. Daniela was napping. The duties of a Grand Duchess were apparently more taxing than they looked. Since there had never been anyone filling that role before, the related work had been left piled in a corner for ages.
The mistress of Winter Castle had much to attend to.
I placed a hand on her forehead. No fever — but the memory of the first time Daniela had arrived was still vivid. She had been burning up, and I had found it strange to be looking at the defeated heroine.
"Your Grace, may I enter?"
"Come in."
White beard, white hair. The long, trailing fur made him look like something out of a Northern myth. Behind him stood his son, waiting in silence. House de Wintergard. You are the most fitting choice. And with the right person to back him up —
"House de Wintergard has always been a house loyal to the Grand Duke."
"Indeed so! Our house is the shield of Wintergard! We who protect Wintergard—"
"Yes, yes. Then there is something I need you to do in my stead — raise a fury on my behalf. What say you?"
Father and son exchanged a glance. Their expressions said they had not yet understood.
"Your line may end because of this. James, you will remain here. Sir Roy de Wintergard — your family has served ours for three generations."
"That is so!"
"You may die if you go."
"If this old man can die in service to the Grand Duke, what greater glory could there be?"
"Is that so..."
Of course, I could not entrust everything to House de Wintergard. Another official would need to accompany him. Zamuchin was out in the nomadic lands, Hergel was needed to manage internal affairs, and Berdo and Hexon were too valuable to send.
"I'll attach someone who knows how to talk. Jackson would do — the Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs."
I found myself nodding without thinking. With Jackson along, at least they wouldn't be outmaneuvered in words.
"Sir Roy. I have a mission for you."
"Speak, Your Grace."
"Go to the Imperial Palace and make clear just how sharp the edge of my anger is. And if you must die in the doing of it, then die with purpose."
Roy de Wintergard. That great frame lowered itself to one knee.
"I will see it done without fail!"
"That said — don't go out of your way to die."