Epilogue: Queen of Maryland Maker (1)
Marriage proposals between great nobles weren't really proposals at all—they were as good as decided the moment the talks began.
Pavel Ishinkiore had been coordinating with the interior minister of the Eastern Kingdom for quite some time now.
Riana had rejected two such proposals already, but that had only delayed things a little. The real discussions had continued unabated.
The purpose of this marriage alliance was twofold.
First, to defend the Ishinkiore family—once a dominant political force—from checks by other great noble houses amid the swirling rumors of the Iron Blood Emperor's abdication.
Second, to provide massive financial support to the Eastern Kingdom of Kalvak, a nation rich in technology but starved for capital.
By tying into royalty, the Ishinkiore family—already one of the empire's three dukes—would become the Eastern Kingdom's royal in-laws. That alone would project external power far beyond what the family currently wielded.
It wasn't a bad deal for the empire either. Though they'd warred in the past, in this era of peaceful rule, there was no reason not to tighten ties with a neighboring powerhouse like the Eastern Kingdom.
Both nations were equally plagued by headaches from black wizards and demonkin.
The matter had already reached the emperor's ears, so there'd be no backlash.
Had Riana, the prospective crown princess, simply departed for the Eastern Kingdom, the wedding would likely have proceeded without a hitch.
But who could have foreseen the twist?
"What do you mean, Your Grace?!"
"I truly regret it. My daughter's opposition has been too fierce. No matter how major a family matter this is, I'm still a father to one child."
"That's exactly why I can't understand it! Canceling the betrothal purely because of the lady's refusal?!"
The interior minister from the Eastern Kingdom replied in a voice half panic, half fury.
The kingdom's politics appeared stable on the surface, but beneath, things were a tangled mess.
King Rankel III of Kalvak was excessively healthy and long-lived.
Princes who would have ascended elsewhere were stuck waiting into their fifties.
The kingdom's nobles and bureaucrats were hyper-sensitive to how the power structure might realign.
In the midst of this, the first prince had been born with a crippled leg.
The real contest for the throne boiled down to a duel between the second and third princes.
But the second prince's reputation had tanked after recent blunders on the northern front.
The interior minister, a key figure in the third prince's faction, had sought to bolster their power by allying with the empire's great noble house of Ishinkiore as in-laws.
In a way, he and Pavel were in similar boats.
Using external forces to preserve the family and hold onto power.
If successful, it would radically reshape the evenly matched power balance for the succession.
The benefits to House Ishinkiore would have been nothing to sneeze at either.
Yet the duke's side had abruptly declared it off.
Even as royal envoys had arrived and wedding preparations were underway.
It was an unforgivable diplomatic blunder.
Pavel, who knew this all too well, bowed his head to the minister.
The deepest apology a duke of the empire could offer a kingdom's bureaucrat.
This was no ordinary "Golden Duke," famed for his arrogance and confidence.
Seeing Pavel unhesitatingly admit fault and yield, the minister looked genuinely shocked.
"I acknowledge my rudeness as well. On the honor of House Ishinkiore, I offer my sincerest apologies. In compensation, we'll deliver seventy percent of the promised betrothal gifts as apology funds. That's six hundred ninety platinum coins."
Six hundred ninety platinum coins. Equivalent to sixty-nine thousand gold—fully one-fifth of the Eastern Kingdom's annual budget.
That kind of influx would leave even the royals with no grounds to press House Ishinkiore further. More than ample breach-of-promise compensation.
But for the minister, a third-prince loyalist, it was still unacceptable.
The gifts? Fine. But those weren't going to the third prince.
They were headed to Pavel's prospective father-in-law, King Rankel III.
If that sum had been funneled to him and the prince, it would be different—but it wasn't.
Honestly, the third prince's feelings didn't matter right now.
What counted was how much profit trickled down to him as the middleman.
This way, he'd end up like a dog that chased away the chicken—empty-handed.
He had to extract something.
"I cannot accept that."
"...Then what more do you want from me?"
"His Highness the third prince truly loved the lady. We've committed a grave offense against those feelings—you must provide fitting compensation!"
"Hah!"
Pavel snorted derisively.
Love? Since when had he ever seen the prince to fall in love?
Thinking it over, it did grate.
His daughter was a beauty second to none in the empire.
Was sending such a girl to a fifty-year-old failure with no heirs really right?
His piercing red eyes fixed straight on the minister.
"Very well. Personally, I'll deliver one hundred fifty platinum coins. You had expectations too, didn't you?"
"..."
The minister swallowed hard.
Truth be told, with the duke's side breaking the promise first, his leverage for protest was limited.
They weren't going to war over a canceled betrothal, were they? It wasn't even after the ceremony.
One hundred fifty platinum coins.
He could skim fifty off the top without issue.
Pavel had read his mind perfectly.
Deliver a hundred to the third prince, and "flexibly" use the rest.
Normally, he'd have dropped his grudge and backed off here.
But the minister overplayed the significance of the Golden Duke bowing to him.
"One hundred fifty is too little. It should be double—at least."
Maybe barking louder would shake loose more?
In that instant, the Golden Duke's demeanor flipped.
"Minister. I'm starting to feel insulted myself now."
"...E-even so...! You Ishinkiores broke off the betrothal first! We have every right to demand—"
"Amusing. Seems you've misunderstood. That sum is what I deemed fair compensation for my error. What right do you have to demand more? You, a mere Eastern Kingdom minister, against Ishinkiore?"
Thud. The minister felt crushed, like the weight of the world bore down on him.
"Kalvak Eastern Nestria native, was it? You're sixty-five this year, so you must remember when I was rampaging through there in my prime."
Before becoming duke, Pavel Ishinkiore of old.
His moniker as border count wasn't Golden Duke, but "Blood Count"—from the blood of shattered skulls staining his red eyes via his iron mace.
And Nestria, the minister's homeland, had been brutally ravaged by Blood Count Pavel Ishinkiore.
"..."
Murderous intent pierced his lungs.
The minister instinctively shrank back. Pure reflex.
"How'd you survive back then? Probably by keeping that trap shut and hiding. Minister, my advice: what you truly need right now is that same silence from those days."
"...My apologies."
"Of course. I'll have the promised one hundred fifty platinum coins ready at once. The remaining gifts will go straight to the palace with a letter of apology via our merchant guild."
The Golden Duke straightened his shoulders and settled back into his seat.
With that, the betrothal was off.
The daughter, once robbed of freedom by her father, had finally regained it.
***
"Miss! Miss!!"
Bang! The door to Riana Ishinkiore's room flew open.
"Eek!"
"Wh-what?!"
She was the duke's rightful daughter, after all.
Only two people in the entire estate could fling open the door to a great noble lady's chambers like that.
Chief Investigator Pletta Selwyn—one of them—was already inside, leaving just one other.
Her exclusive secretary, Hanna.
"...Hanna?"
"Ah...!! Huff, pant, whew! Miss Pletta...!! You're here... too...!!!"
"Calm down first and have some water."
Pletta handed over her own cup to the gasping, red-faced Hanna who'd burst in.
"Th-thank you, huff! Miss...!!"
She gulped it down in one go.
"Ahh! Th-that's it! His Grace the Golden Duke, he... the Eastern Kingdom's interior minister...!!"
As she flailed and babbled incoherently, Riana and Pletta exchanged baffled looks—but only briefly.
"Hanna, it's fine. I'll explain."
"Y-Your Grace!!"
Pavel Ishinkiore appeared from behind, a gentle smile on his face.
Hanna hastily stepped aside, dropping to her knees, while Pletta carefully lifted the hem of her dress in greeting.
Only Riana offered no bow to her father.
What was he here to lecture about now?
If he spouted nonsense about how handsome the third prince was or how he treated women kindly, she'd lose all composure.
Maybe she should just lash out openly now?
Excommunication? Fine, whatever.
Eugene was around anyway. The library might have a spot for her.
She'd built the Riana Merchant Guild from scratch—twice wouldn't break her.
But Pavel delivered the last answer she expected.
"No need to prepare anymore. The betrothal's been canceled."
"Huh!?"
Riana and Pletta froze.
"From now on, live pursuing what you want. I'll handle family matters, so don't worry about them."
"Wait... what does that...?"
"You've suffered under a worthless father all this time. You're my pride, Riana."
Shocking news, followed by enveloping warmth. "..."
Tears began streaming from Riana's eyes before she knew it.
A reflexive response.
She couldn't even understand why she was crying.
Pavel gazed at his weeping daughter but said no more.
He didn't reach out to comfort her or ask why she cried.
He simply turned away with a bitter look—the saddest expression Riana had ever seen on him, one she'd never witnessed before.
"Oh, that wizard. He had some real backbone, didn't he?"
But his parting words halted her tears in an instant.
"?"
"A real man needs that grit, right? Looks like he didn't face down Cassian for nothing. Enjoy your time together."
"??????"
"But if that Eugene punk tries anything foolish, tell your father right away. I'll smash his skull myself."
Something had happened.