The Fiancé (4)
A few days before word of the marriage proposal reached County Damus.
Ariel returned to the Aether Ducal mansion for the first time in quite a while.
“Good day, Uncle.”
“Er, um. Huh? Me? Ariel, were you... greeting me just now?”
“Do I have another uncle?”
“Well, no... but you almost never speak to me first, you see.”
“Even I possess a modicum of tact.”
“R-Right...”
Rascal shrank back slightly before Ariel’s strangely venomous demeanor. To tell the truth, relations between him and Ariel had never been particularly warm.
It was unavoidable, really. Rascal was the presumptive heir to the ducal seat, while Ariel was the current duke’s only daughter. Even if Ariel harbored no ambition whatsoever for the title, their relationship was never destined to be comfortable. The mere exchange of pleasantries between them was enough to spark vicious rumors and endless gossip throughout high society. The dynamic was simply doomed from the start.
In the eyes of the public, Rascal was nothing more than a shameless usurper, persecuting the legitimate heir to seize the ducal coronet for himself. He felt terribly wronged by the reputation, but he knew all too well that any attempt to clear his name would only backfire. And so, Rascal had deliberately maintained his distance from Ariel.
Besides, she always gave me the creeps.
Furthermore, having known Ariel as a child, he couldn't help feeling uneasy around her. Growing up deprived of affection, Ariel had always resembled a porcelain doll. Not in reference to her delicate features, mind you, but because of her utterly inanimate, chilling aura.
Compounded by these myriad factors, the two had kept each other at arm’s length. Though they lived under the exact same roof, their combined conversations across the years probably did not even amount to an hour.
“So? What could have possibly brought you to see me?”
Rascal found Ariel’s unwavering stare unnerving, but he did not avert his eyes. If she had come to declare her sudden claim to the ducal title after all this time, he wasn't about to roll over and hand it to her. Had she contested it from the start, that would be one thing—but you couldn't just grant someone an inheritance only to snatch it away eighteen years later.
Eighteen long years. He had spent all that time running tirelessly toward the position of the next head of the house. If Ariel decided she wanted it now, it meant total war. Regardless of what either of them actually wanted, the retainers and factions circling them would never let it lie.
“I know very well that you despise me, Uncle.”
“I don't?”
“Surely, I am a thorn in your side.”
“I distinctly told you that isn't true, didn't I?”
“Some of the assassins sent to end my life over the years were likely dispatched by your hand, Uncle.”
“Why on earth would I do that?! If I just sit on my hands, I am already the next duke!”
“Because you cannot bear the sight of me.”
“Did I... did I do something wrong to you?”
Stunned by the unprovoked barrage of character assassination, Rascal was utterly at a loss. He had worked himself to the bone for the ducal family with absolute, spotless integrity. Plotting against Ariel? He would never. Doing so would only work against him. What kind of pathetic wretch schemes against a niece who doesn't even lift a finger?
Yet here she was, barging into his study out of nowhere and flinging wild accusations. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.
“Surely, even now, you are plotting to banish me.”
“Why... why are you doing this to me? What did I do wrong to deserve such venom...?”
Rascal was genuinely terrified. Why on earth was she staging such a sinister prelude? Did she intend to decapitate him right here and now? Couldn't they just talk this out like civilized family members?
“Naturally, you must be scheming to sell me off in an arranged marriage to some backwater rural estate.”
“Why on earth would I take such an insane gamble?!”
Tronios Aether might be emotionally numb to the world, but Rascal had no desire to needlessly poke the sleeping dragon. Who knew what might set him off? The Tronios of the past would have erupted in volcanic fury. If Tronios possessed even a scrap of human sentiment left within him, Rascal would be instantly obliterated by the man hailed as the greatest archmage of the current era.
“Yes. For instance...”
Those crimson eyes peered straight through him. Looking into those clear, unwavering pupils, Rascal found himself doubting his own sanity—had he done something to invite such a grave misunderstanding? Even if he had never harbored such intentions, could Ariel have misinterpreted something he did? If there was a misunderstanding, it had to be resolved immediately.
“To say, the eldest son of the storied Damus County far on the eastern frontier—Sir Yohan Damus.”
“...?”
An oddly, suspiciously specific example.
Only then did Rascal realize something was profoundly amiss, and he took a proper, searching look at Ariel. A deadpan face. A steady, unblinking gaze. And yet, her cheeks were faintly tinged with pink.
“Ah...!”
Enlightenment struck!
In that single instant, Rascal’s comprehension of Ariel Aether ascended to unprecedented heights. The niece he had once viewed as a soulless doll was, in fact, displaying the charming sensibilities of a girl her age. She had woven this entire terrifying, convoluted melodrama purely to mask her own embarrassment!
Then, what was the duty of a proper adult in such a predicament?
“Ahem! Well... it's not entirely out of the question!”
Play along, of course.
Rascal floated the suggestion as a test. Beneath the brim of her hat, he could practically swear he saw her ears perk up. Right. She has reached that age after all. Still, just who on earth is this bastard to drive the poor girl to such frantic lengths?
Even as he smiled at Ariel’s youthful infatuation, the thought couldn't help crossing his mind. Wilfulness was one thing, but this crossed into utter absurdity.
Still... does this mean she actually relies on me?
Admittedly, very few people held the authority to sanction such a match. Even so, the fact that she had approached him out of everyone filled him with an unexpected swell of pride. However...
“That said, a marriage between noble houses is far easier said than done. That is the real rub.”
There was an undeniable obstacle. Namely, the other party’s feelings.
While Rascal found this bashful side of Ariel rather endearing, he couldn't help questioning her methodology. If she had ambushed her own uncle with such theatrical aggression, who was to say she hadn't subjected the boy she liked to the exact same treatment? Rascal’s intuition proved remarkably sharp. People blinded by love were notoriously prone to catastrophic blunders. One needed to look no further than his own elder brother, Tronios Aether, who had defied the entire family to marry a commoner.
“No matter how modest their fief may be, forcing our will upon them would undeniably compromise the dignity of a ducal house.”
Are you certain the boy feels the same way? Is the disparity in status truly the only reason you need this framed as a political arrangement? Rascal buried his true question beneath carefully diplomatic phrasing.
“I have been prepared for that for a long time.”
Ariel omitted the subject entirely. Yet Rascal, as the future head of the house, understood her meaning at once. Perhaps blood truly was thicker than water; they required few words to communicate. Rascal’s discernment had hit the mark.
There was only one tiny, fatal flaw...
Sir Yohan loves me.
Ariel’s sheer, unshakeable delusion was the problem. She already treated it as an immutable law of the universe. She recalled their past conversation.
“Sir Yohan. I... might be getting married soon. An arranged marriage.”
To you.
“To tell the truth, I was already prepared for an arranged marriage.”
Since you seemed so intimidated by my family, I decided this would be best.
“Even so... lately, I found myself wondering, just a little... yes, just a little, about what a love match might be like.”
Even if our bond is tarnished under the guise of a political arrangement, I trust that everything will be fine.
“What about you, Sir Yohan?”
What do you think?
“...Well, unless something extraordinary happens, I’d probably accept.”
“I see.”
Then we have reached a mutual agreement.
Ariel had smiled. A gentle, strangely mature smile. It was a train of logic so wildly derailed that the Yohan of that day could never have conceived it in his wildest nightmares.
She was going to be happy.
Having received Ariel’s petition—if it could even be called that—Rascal immediately reported to the head of the house, Tronios Aether. If he pushed this through entirely on his own authority, he would genuinely become the scumbag uncle scheming to purge his young niece.
“Brother, that is how the matter stands.”
“...”
“It appears to be her own heartfelt wish. May I proceed with the arrangements?”
Tronios Aether fixed him with a completely impassive gaze. Unable to discern whether that blank countenance harbored displeasure or quiet approval, Rascal strained every nerve trying to read the fathomless man’s thoughts.
“Proceed.”
“Yes, Brother.”
In the end, Tronios merely nodded, not a single muscle shifting on his face. Whether that meant ‘Try it if you dare’ or ‘You have my blessing,’ Rascal still had no earthly clue. Looking upon the man Tronios had become, Rascal felt an ache of sorrow and a chill of dread in equal measure.
“Good grief, this is going to turn my hair gray before my time.”
Following his audience with Tronios, Rascal took it upon himself to explain the situation to the council of elders and the manor's servants one by one. Informing the elders was duty; briefing the servants was preemptive defense. He knew all too well that every rumor in the empire took root in the servant quarters.
And so, virtually everyone in the estate except Ariel herself was brought into the loop. Rascal had preserved his dignity through sheer legwork. Of course, the servants who listened only thought Rascal looked pathetic for over-explaining himself so desperately.
“Whew, this ought to satisfy their side, right? Well, she is my niece after all. Let’s show as much sincerity as we can muster.”
And so, Rascal attached an astronomical price to the betrothal. He decided to grant betrothal gifts equivalent to five entire years of County Damus’s tax revenue.
“Ha! Absolute perfection. With this, there's no way she'll ever be mistreated, right?”
It was, undoubtedly, an offer they could never refuse.
It was an offer that was physically impossible to refuse.
“What happens if we turn this down? Can we just pretend this never happened?”
“Do you really need to say that out loud to know the answer? Our family would be what ceases to exist.”
There was zero wiggle room. It wasn't as if the ducal house was demanding a dowry—they were giving one!
If they had demanded extravagant gifts from the Damus side, we could have fabricated all sorts of excuses to turn them down. We could have pleaded poverty, and while the county's pride would take a minor beating, that would have been the end of it. However, the reverse was a completely different story.
How on earth could anyone reject this? Our counterpart was the great House of Aether! Refusing an offer like this would grind the ducal family's prestige into the dirt. Which meant County Damus would instantly become the blood-sworn enemy of the Duke of Aether.
Good sweet heavens! What diabolical, villainous trickery!
—Yohan, did you know? Ariel has a surprisingly tenacious side to her.
Words Princess Lobelia had once told me. To defend myself, I had never taken her warning lightly. Even while maintaining my distance from Ariel, I had anticipated that she might get clingy, and I had kept my guard up at all times.
And what came of it? I put up a single boundary, and she countered by slamming an arranged marriage right down my throat!
Is this really something that being "careful" could have prevented? And to begin with, this wasn't what anyone called "tenacious." This was called violent! Even a toddler throwing a screaming fit in the middle of a market would take a gentler approach than Ariel's.
“Well, what can you do? Just marry her.”
“Isn't that a bit too easy for you to say when it isn't your life on the line?”
“Not my life? What affects our family affects all of us. Just close your eyes and take the plunge. Given that rotten personality of yours, a love marriage was completely out of the question anyway.”
“What’s wrong with my personality?!”
“It is hardly something a father should describe in plain words. You are my own flesh and blood—how could I bring myself to say such things?”
What, were you about to unleash a torrent of profanity on me?
“Father, do you seriously want to sell off your own son just so you can live in luxury?”
“Now, now, how could you say such a thing? We truly have your best interests at heart.”
Right. Surely not. Father had always worked himself to the bone for the family, after all. How dedicated was he? When his son complained about the mortal peril of an impending terrorist attack, he told me to go draw the terrorist's aggro. Consistent to the very end, truly.
“Dear! Look at this! Goodness, I've never seen a gemstone this massive in my entire life! Is this really mine? Shouldn't we sell it to help the estate?”
Just then, Mother’s excited voice echoed through the communication mirror. A voice I hadn't heard in ages.
“Ahem!Cough, cough. Dear, I am in the middle of a very important conversation right now, so let’s speak later.”
“Oh my, silly me! Understood. Since you’d already pocketed the gold watch and everything, I thought it was fine.”
Through the mirror, Father abruptly yanked his sleeve down.
“Father.”
“Ahem!Cough, cough. Yohan, it’s a misunderstanding.”
“You just...!”
“Ah! It’s almost time for my council with the vassals! Yohan, let’s talk later. I have to travel up to the capital soon for this matter anyway. Hmm? Let’s discuss it then, shall we?”
“If you don’t arrive within a week, Father, you will find out firsthand exactly what I am capable of.”
“Calm down, boy.”
I laid down a flat ultimatum. If he pushes me any further, I’ll really show him what I can do. Father knew it too. I hadn't earned this nasty reputation for nothing.
“I am completely calm right now. In fact, with a cold, rational mind, I am currently calculating the precise scope of havoc I can unleash.”
“...I’ll pack my bags today.”
Unbelievable. To think a romance fantasy trope like this would actually happen to me...