Princess Hostage and Noble Whispers
But for now, I'd keep her as a hostage, Your Highness the Princess.
After the princess and the nobles had settled en masse into the Grand Duke's Residence and the surrounding estates, I held a meeting with the 7th Knight Division Captain, my aides, and the key staff involved in sensitive matters.
Grasping the princess's flight and her transparency was undoubtedly a solid step forward.
That said, it was clearly just one piece of the many problems the North had to tackle.
The most urgent issue for the Northern Army right now was merging and controlling the surrounding territories for survival.
"What are the reactions from the nearby lords?"
"More than half, including the count's domain, are favorable, but a few are holding off, saying they need ratification from the capital. It doesn't look like it'll come to armed conflict."
I nodded at the personnel staff officer's report.
At least it meant no lords barricading their gates, forcing knight divisions to drag them out by force.
About what I'd expected. Of course armed clashes wouldn't be easy. Who in their right mind would draw a sword against the Northern Army, which had a iron grip on northern hegemony?
"As per Your Grace's candid words, some among them have expressed a desire for a private audience with you. Everyone recognizes the urgency and precariousness of the situation. And one problem..."
"Lack of unity, right."
"...Yes."
It was the Logistics Chief speaking.
"I worry that the capital's nobles, accustomed to daily feasts, might find northern fare unpalatable. And alliances are but fleeting states that can flip at any moment."
This was noble-speak too. Plainly put, the capital nobles might conspire with local lords and stab the North in the back anytime.
And such conspiracies usually stemmed from discontent.
I shifted my gaze to the 7th Knight Division Captain, pondering for a moment.
The local lords recognized the crisis's urgency and submitted to northern control. If that unity crumbled, it meant—at minimum—they lacked justification.
This would sort itself out when dealing with the princess.
If the North merged territories under imperial decree from her, who would refuse? Refusal would make them crazier than the Apostles of the Evil God—certified lunatics endorsed by the Northern Grand Duke.
"I asked you to select especially loyal and trustworthy knights from the divisions. How's that progressing?"
The 7th Knight Division Captain nodded deeply at my question.
"Yes, we've already selected the most suitable ones. I was planning to report today."
At his gesture, the vice-captain stepped forward and handed me a dossier.
"We focused mainly on the 24th Knight Division and the 33rd. Both are more like standing forces than frontline troops."
Her finger pointed to each division—specifically, the sections detailing their records and intel.
Both had sunk deep roots in the North. What we needed was a guard force for the Grand Duke's Residence.
"The 33rd will do. Personnel staff, inform the Knight Command to assign them to guard duty for the Grand Duke's Residence and the adjacent annexes."
"But Your Grace, the Imperial Guard will push back hard. Will you proceed regardless?"
I stroked my chin at the personnel staff officer's words. Of course we would. They were guards in name only—my eyes and ears in truth.
What was key to holding the leash? Information.
I opted for noble-speak.
"I doubt the weary Imperial Guard can fulfill that role adequately now. How could they object to bolstering the princess and the nobles' safety?"
"Yes, Your Grace... You're right. We'll proceed then."
"If they have objections, tell them to come voice them in person."
"Understood."
This dedicated 33rd escort would answer the Logistics Chief's doubts.
It was also a silent declaration to the nobles.
We're listening to everything you say over there, so make your move if you dare.
"Moving on to other matters."
Ron Manir.
With the capital's last escape locomotive arrived, deciding the North's course for that place was paramount.
"What kind of humiliation is this? Duchess, please hear me out. This can only be seen as treating us with contempt..."
After the 33rd Knight Division took over guarding the Grand Duke's Residence, the already chaotic residence and surrounding estates erupted in even greater backlash.
The assignment happened in less than a day—right after the morning locomotive arrived and they settled in.
This swift control shattered any image of the North as brutish dullards. It was downright sly.
"Couldn't you put in a word with the Grand Duke, Duchess? You said you know him well..."
"......"
"Please, Duchess..."
"Enough."
Duchess Belliche de Fon Valua sipped her tea, staring into the blazing fireplace. Snow swirled outside the dim windows.
The twilight moon filtering through was eerily alien. Had the North always borne such a cold blue hue?
"And go wash up. Your sour stink is wearing my nose raw."
"D-Duchess!"
The count's daughter glanced nervously around, whispering as if on the verge of tears.
"The ladies have been bathing in turns, pushing me to the back of the line. Th-this is a problem too...! How can the Grand Duke treat the capital's noble ladies like mere refugees? So indecently."
Assigning separate estates would create blind spots—likely what they suspected. Centralizing entrances let us monitor every move.
Pathetic. Blind to the capital's fall, whining about discomfort. This is when you sharpen your wits.
Belliche shot the naive little count's daughter a cold glare.
But her thoughts brimmed with the Grand Duke.
A few years ago at the founding festival, he'd seemed a mere green boy. How had he grown so cunning and sharp? His ridiculous precision drew even a hollow laugh.
And so young, too.
"Short-sighted child. Do you truly not grasp why this duchess scolds you?"
Then came a sharp voice from beside her.
"The capital burned. Right before our eyes. After such horror, you fuss over a bath like a slovenly brat?"
"L-Lady Rozet..."
"Shut your mouth. Insolent girl."
The radiant blonde woman sidled closer to Belliche. Countess Rozet, a social force alongside her.
"Don't worry, Duchess Valua. I'll drill manners into this foolish girl."
The young lady wilted, eyes downcast. Rozet leaned in closer, whispering to Belliche.
"That said, noble blood learns even from the lowly. The child's words aren't entirely wrong, Duchess."
"...You think so too?"
"Yes. For you, who knows the Grand Duke, to hear this might be presumptuous... but he's too stingy. We should tend the princess's weary body and soul—yet we get this treatment."
"......"
"And the princess resides directly in the Grand Duke's Residence, no? We wouldn't care, but her maids handling the princess's baths and daily needs..."
Rozet whipped her head around. The count's daughter met her gaze.
"Wouldn't it be far more proper for one of our capital girls—even this flighty one—to comfort Her Highness?"
"Y-yes, exactly."
The count's daughter chimed in, gauging reactions.
"And... the Grand Duke lives in the Residence too...! So that northern beastliness might lead to some irreverent, reckless—"
"Silence."
Rozet cut her off sharply.
"There are things a vulgar mouth should and shouldn't utter. Your rudeness and folly pierce the heavens. Have you forgotten whose throat we're under?"
"Eek, s-sorry..."
"Be grateful the duchess favors you. Otherwise, who knows what I'd do."
Rozet hissed the warning through gritted teeth, then smoothed her expression and turned to Belliche.
"Dearest Duchess, anyway... it's time you stepped up. As I said, aren't you close to the Grand Duke? Many women await your decision."
"...Hm."
"Confront him directly."
Belliche scanned the room. The vast entrance hall brimmed with women. Some awaited baths; others, like her and Rozet, had finished.
All trembled at the capital's tragedy—or feigned it. Either way, eyes converged here.
She glared at Rozet.
...Protesting the knights' control under the pretext of attending the princess. Not a bad ploy.
It could even position the princess as the North's rallying point.
The issue: she'd have to lead.
Contempt flickered in her eyes. But circumstances bound her.
Scheming wench. Already fighting for scraps on the exile road?
A countess she wouldn't have glanced at in the capital now acted her equal.
Her duchess position chained her feet.
Her dark lips brushed the teacup. After a silent pause, Belliche spoke to Rozet in icy tones.
"Isn't your husband quite close to the Imperial Guard Captain? Bring him along."
"...Count Bardovan Sernt?"
"Yes. He guarded Her Highness at the forefront every step of the flight—everyone here knows his loyalty. The Grand Duke would heed his words."
Maintaining momentum, Belliche nodded toward the entrance, guarded by the Grand Duke's knights.
"So, Rozet—tell the knights my will. Right now, fetch Count Bardovan from the next annex. We're going to the Grand Duke's office to protest."
Rozet blinked blankly for a moment.
Using her husband's ties to drag in the Guard Captain? Absurd nonsense. Her husband had fled with them, sharing quarters with the captain.
Daring to wield a duchess's authority to command him? Self-destruction.
So, admit you misspoke.
Please.
"......"
Please say you misspoke.
No more words from Rozet. Belliche relaxed.
She'd soon concede her error, suggest better ways to aid the princess, discuss together.
Truth was, she couldn't forget the Grand Duke's pitch-black eyes from that morning.
Hated to admit it, but facing them again felt deeply uncomfortable. He was just a young pup, yet...
Duchess's intuition. Defending herself face-to-face? Worse than death.
That was all.
"...Understood."
Then.
"If that's the duchess's will, I'll have to step up. I'll inform those northern knights right away."
Rozet shot to her feet, striding toward the entrance.
...Wh-what?
Belliche blinked in flustered panic.
Thus, the protest with the Imperial Guard Captain was swiftly arranged.