Feigned Illness, Stolen Kisses, and Northern Independence
Even a grand duke sometimes wants to play hooky with a fake illness. What if I'd been in that position? One thing was certain—I wouldn't have let myself get bewitched by that Bosch family girl and treated Daniela so cruelly. How could I possibly hate someone this beautiful? I might have been jealous of the Crown Prince for having her, though.
No. Actually, I probably would have graduated from the Imperial Academy early and come north sooner. In that case, these feelings were practically inevitable—hardly a coincidence. That's what I wanted to believe.
"Daniela, I feel sick."
"Didn't you take a hit earlier? Are you okay?"
"Come closer and check. I think there's a wound."
Daniela drew near to me as I lay there. I was pretending to be in pain, faking being bedridden, but the Crown Prince's punch hadn't been that strong. It had only left a slight cut inside my mouth, and northerners weren't so weak as to be felled by a pampered noble who'd never fought before.
"Come even closer. It hurts."
"Really?"
Looking flustered, Daniela sat on the edge of the bed and leaned her face in toward mine. This distance was perfect. Close enough that her hair brushed against me lightly. I wrapped my arm around the back of her neck. As I slowly sat up, I claimed her lips.
I hoped she'd think of it as praise for a job well done.
"Wh-what are you doing all of a sudden, Your Grace?"
"No one's here. And I was jealous."
"Huh? Suddenly...?"
"Not jealousy, exactly. Just... I hate it. Hate how close he still is to you."
I wrapped my arm around the back of her neck again. She put up a token resistance—"We shouldn't, Your Grace"—but there was no real strength in it. If anything, she burrowed into my embrace, leaning her body against mine. I kissed her once more. Smack—the sound of our lips meeting seemed to echo through the room.
But this wasn't the end. We'd been kissing for a while now. Maybe it was time to dream a little bigger.
"What do you hate so much?"
"Just... I hate how the Crown Prince still looks at you like that."
"Why?"
"No one gets to send those kinds of looks at you. At least not in front of me."
What were the Crown Prince and Daniela thinking when their eyes met? I wasn't Daniela, nor was I the Crown Prince. I had no way of guessing their hearts. Now, they faced each other out of mutual disgust. But if they'd been set for a political marriage, surely there'd be some lingering fondness, right?
"I hate it so much. I wish you'd come north from the start."
"You've gotten so much more spoiled, Your Grace."
"And you hate that?"
I said it while holding her tight. She shook her head, telling me no. With no one around, she could afford to indulge me—but I needed a place to rest too. The position of Northern Grand Duke wasn't just for show. It came with heavy burdens.
"No, Your Grace."
"What if you'd come north from the beginning? Then you never would have had to face that Crown Prince."
Of course, I wasn't saying this out of fear of fighting him. That didn't scare me—in fact, I welcomed it. No need to fear some insignificant bastard. My one worry was how he raked his disgusting gaze over her. A visceral revulsion, like the urge to swat away a cockroach or some grotesque bug. Yeah, disgust fit perfectly.
"I..."
"I know, Daniela. You have no interest in the Crown Prince."
"That's a relief."
"Still hate it. I felt it today. I need to crush him once. Can't stand it."
"Your Grace..."
"That's why."
Daniela was the one burrowing into my arms, but it felt like she was comforting me. Maybe the Crown Prince had turned out that way because Daniela wasn't by his side. If I'd shared emotions with the Bosch girl, our situations might have been reversed. But that wouldn't happen. The Crown Prince had thrown away fortune that fell into his lap, and I'd claimed it.
"I deserve some praise."
"Pardon?"
"Even the Grand Duke of the North wants praise sometimes. So come here."
I kissed her again. This time, it was different from before. I didn't pull her in tight. But lick—I invaded her closed mouth. I teased between her teeth, savoring the touch of our tongues. Slurp—the wet sound rang out louder than before.
"Ah!"
The moment stretched long, but suddenly Daniela shoved me away hard. Then—smack—her hand flew toward my cheek.
Laying hands on the Grand Duke's body! And on the spot where the Crown Prince had hit me earlier!
"S-sorry! Your Grace!"
"Wh-what is this?"
"I was so embarrassed. So embarrassed."
She placed her hand on the cheek she'd struck. One thing was clear: it hurt more than the Crown Prince's punch. Her hand packed a surprising sting. Better not get cocky.
"I'm sorry. Really. I was just too embarrassed."
"Ah, uh, okay."
Clatter-clatter—suddenly, the guards burst in from outside. Had they heard my scream-like noise?
"Your Grace! What happened?!"
"Is it an assassin?!"
Nothing broke an awkward mood like outsiders barging in. I laughed it off with a hearty "haha!" and told them it was fine. Daniela's face was flushed bright red. But I preferred the sting on my cheek to that blush. Someone might mistake me for a masochist, but no. I just hadn't expected her to be that embarrassed.
"It's fine! All good!"
Everything would be okay.
—
That evening, the marquesses' conference began in earnest. Nearly every marquess on the continent was there, along with plenty of other nobles. Marquess Roland von Bart, the host, raised agenda items for approval or discussion. In truth, there wasn't much they could restrict, nor could imperial law block most of it. Especially not trade between the North and the Bart family.
"Has the North really gained that much power?"
It was Marquess Callum's question. I'd heard the Empire was keeping them in check these days, limiting their influence. With their wealth, they stood at the forefront of a noble faction essentially at odds with the imperial family. Did he know his foolish son Leroy was at its center?
"That's not for you to debate."
I was there too. Normally, I'd have ignored such a gathering or pretended not to know. This was probably my first time. I'd attended southern noble conferences before, but I could tell: no matter how fierce they seemed, they weren't a match for the North.
"This is important. The gold veins from Bart territory are crucial."
"I know that. But the Bart family isn't handing out gold for free, are they?"
"It's a key imperial resource. Plenty of value."
"That's why we're buying it at fair price."
The talk was going in circles. Their intent was obvious: they couldn't stop it, so they wanted to pressure the Bart family at least a little. Plain as day.
"Northern troops stationed in Bart territory? Is that even permissible?"
"That's not for you to decide."
"Bart territory isn't threatened by nomads. No need for it."
The Callum family seemed to fear our troops' deployment. The gold veins were an imperial-Bart issue, and ever since relations soured, the imperial family had been trying to carve out the Barts. Callum's goal was simple: to pressure Bart, they needed other variables eliminated. And the North was a massive one.
"I'll say it again: our troops are where we place them. Not your call."
"If nomad forces invade then, it'll be disastrous."
"We'll recall the North's top commander if that happens. But not now."
These people didn't understand nomad armies well. They struck like monsters—fast and fierce—but they were human. In this winter, nomads were the most vulnerable of all.
"By imperial law—"
"Right. We can't send troops south lightly. But circumstances change."
"Your Grace, sulking won't solve this."
I smirked at the Callum folk. They were probably preparing for the coming war. What if we—or the Barts—sided with the imperial family?
"I wonder if you've heard the news about the North's independence."
"Independence?"
Murmur-murmur—the biggest bombshell dropped in the marquesses' conference. The North had declared independence. We now had full autonomy. Our army served only the Grand Duke, not the Emperor.
"Imperial law? Sure. But why would an independent nation follow it?"
"It still needs imperial recognition, and—"
"I know."
But pushing further sounded like meddling in internal affairs. That one word was all it took. That was everything.