The Duke's Letter of Dissolution
The Rampas Empire was the most powerful nation on the western continent. And that fact hadn't changed. Excluding the vast territory of the Rampas Empire, the continent consisted only of small kingdoms and alliances. They all kept a watchful eye on the mighty empire.
The problem was that the empire's power was currently fragmented. Once, the empire had boasted a strong imperial authority. The imperial Lux family had been praised for generations as the beloved children of the gods, the clan of light. Their vivid golden hair, as if infused with light, and sapphire-blue eyes were the symbols of the imperial house. All power emanated solely from the imperial family. Their words were the voice of the gods, and their actions were deemed the mercy of the divine.
But as the northern duke and his knights repelled monsters with their formidable forces and developed mines to amass immense wealth, the scales of power began to shift. The south had milder seasons and fertile lands compared to the north, but the weather wasn't always kind. Droughts struck at times, floods ravaged in summer, and typhoons hit in early autumn. There were good harvests, but bad ones were just as common. In contrast, the north—long thought barren—was riddled with gem mines, propelling it to become the empire's wealthiest region overnight.
As time passed and the imperial finances deteriorated, the south had no choice but to rely on the north. Imperial authority plummeted like a fall from the sky, and the northern duke grew so mighty that he was hailed as the Grand Duke. Even now, with the current duke battling an unknown illness for several years, nothing had changed.
Damian Lux Rampas, emperor of such an empire, sat lost in thought as he read a letter from the north. He urgently summoned the crown prince, who was studying at the academy.
"Your Majesty."
Michael greeted him politely upon entering the emperor's office. Without preamble, the emperor cut straight to the point.
"What happened with Lady Carpoem?"
"Pardon?"
Michael looked baffled. He had visited the ducal territory just recently to fulfill his duties as her fiancé. She had seemed a bit off the last time he'd seen her, but nothing unusual had happened. Shaking his head, he replied.
"No, nothing at all."
"Then why did the duke send this?"
Michael took the letter from the emperor and scanned it quickly. His eyes widened in shock. It was a notice of dissolution. More precisely, a letter from the duke expressing his intent to end the engagement. Even a duke couldn't unilaterally break off an engagement with the imperial family, so he had sent a formal request for imperial approval first.
The letter blamed himself for deciding too hastily on his young daughter's future and noted her inadequacies to become crown princess. It was politely worded, but the intent was clear: send the dissolution papers to House Carpoem.
Michael couldn't fathom why House Carpoem wanted to end it. It had been Abigail's fervent wish from the start. Her recent odd behavior seemed like just another whim, as always. But for the duke to write directly to the emperor requesting dissolution? That was no mere caprice. Cold sweat beaded on Michael's palms.
"Truly, nothing happened with Lady Carpoem. Your Majesty, she never once mentioned wanting to end it."
"Then it's the duke who wants it? Well, he was never thrilled about the engagement to begin with."
The emperor sighed, deep in worry. The duke had been reluctant to send his only daughter to the imperial family. Though its power had waned somewhat, it was still the house of the great empire's emperor—a place rife with endless court intrigues. The duke seemed to want Abigail to live freely rather than become part of it. Yet he had consented because his daughter desired Michael. For all his stoicism, the duke was a doting father who granted her every wish.
That was how the engagement had come about. Canceling it now would deal a massive blow to the imperial family.
"We must prevent the dissolution at all costs," the emperor said firmly.
Not only would the enormous dowry promised by House Carpoem vanish, but with the imperial finances already in dire straits, they couldn't hold out much longer. That was why the emperor had planned to marry Michael and Abigail immediately after their coming-of-age ceremonies.
"I'll go speak with her myself."
The emperor gazed at his crown prince, who was the spitting image of his younger self. Michael was the only child of the late empress. Among the many princes, he was special because the emperor had loved her deeply. After her death, he had taken no new empress nor elevated any consort. It was all for Michael. And Michael had grown into an exceptional man. His striking looks that had the wild lady chasing after him, his brilliant mind that topped the academy—these were the imperial family's pride. The emperor placed great hopes on his heir.
"Can you persuade her?"
"Yes, she will surely listen to me."
"Very well. I trust only you."
The emperor sent Michael off with faith and set the duke's letter aside. It would soon be worthless scrap paper, but he couldn't tear it arbitrarily. If good news came, he'd rip it up with pleasure. At last, the emperor allowed himself a relaxed smile.
* * *
I faced Ian Servbo once more. Swallowing a sigh that threatened to escape at his stiff, unboyish face, I said,
"I'm Abigail Carpoem. Let's get along from now on, Ian."
"Yes, my liege."
"…"
My liege? It would've been far better if he'd just called me "Lady" or "Miss."
"Can't you drop that 'my liege' thing? Like everyone else—'Lady' or 'Miss'…"
"I cannot."
"…"
What an exasperating boy. I had no idea how to handle this kid brainwashed by his cultish clan. They revered me as some dragon incarnation, their god. I knew how terrifying believers could be, especially the religious kind. I'd seen news stories of cultists going mad and committing crimes. Honestly, I couldn't see Ian as a normal person. And being the object of that faith? It weighed on me heavily. I was no dragon incarnation—just an ordinary person. He might even be disappointed once he got to know me.
"Sigh. Fine, do as you like."
Half-resigned, I turned away. Starting today, I had a mountain of tasks. The duke was beginning my proper heir training in earnest.
Originally, Abigail had only received light lessons in etiquette for marrying into the imperial family: court manners, history, dance, embroidery, music, and the like. But now, it was time for real education. A bit late, perhaps, but better than nothing.
"I am Xavier Rector, in charge of Lady Carpoem's education from today."
"Pleased to meet you, Teacher."
A man with dark brown hair neatly tied in a ponytail bowed to me. His hair and features screamed southern heritage. Several tutors had been assigned to me starting today, and this one handled history and politics.
Xavier Rector. For someone like me with scant knowledge of this world, he was essential.
"I heard you graduated top of the capital academy."
"Yes, that's right."
"And then topped university as well."
Xavier just smiled warmly at my words. The duke's connections had truly brought a gem. He was a character from the novel too. He should have gone to teach at the academy with the crown prince after university, yet here he was at House Carpoem. A baron's second son from an unremarkable family, but brilliant beyond measure. Like a poor kid from the sticks outshining Seoul's rich prodigies to take nationwide first place, then topping Seoul University too.
He was the perfect sidekick to flesh out the flawless crown prince, and now he was mine. What a windfall.
"It's an honor to have someone like you, Teacher."
"The honor is mine, Lady Carpoem."
A warm atmosphere filled the room. But it melted away like snow when Xavier handed me a sheet of paper.
"First, to gauge your level, please solve these. You have 50 minutes."
"Ah, sure."
I took the test paper in a daze. Sixteen years of school—six elementary, three middle, three high, four university—nothing but study and exam hell. And now here too? With mixed feelings, I examined the paper.
It was history problems. Abigail's memories were unreliable. True to her fierce temper, she despised studying. She'd even thrown tantrums over basic etiquette lessons. Anything study-related was a blank void. And the novel's knowledge was useless—the author hadn't detailed the world like a history book. No way I'd know ancient nations, kings, or dates.
I submitted it nearly blank. No multiple choice to guess.
"Hmm, I see."
"…"
Xavier's gaze pierced me like daggers. If only Abigail had studied a little… I swallowed a sigh.
"Understood, Lady Carpoem. We have much to cover ahead."
"Haha, looking forward to it."
The first day ended with introductions and a simple test. As Xavier turned to leave, I asked what had been nagging me.
"Teacher, why come here instead of the academy?"
He fixed his gaze on me. His brown eyes seemed to sparkle faintly.
"Do you know the legends of the north, Lady Carpoem?"
"Legends of the north?"
"Yes."
As if I would. I answered honestly.
"No."
Xavier's eyes gleamed oddly. I flinched. I'd seen that look before. Where was it? Puzzled, I listened as he began.
"Before the empire's founding, the north and south were separate nations. The north worshipped their guardian dragon as a god, while the south served the god of light, Lumine. I'll cover how and why those incompatible lands united into the empire in future lessons."
"Ah, yes."
Xavier was definitely a history otaku. Watching him, I recalled a friend with the same fervent glint. He launched into a passionate explanation of northern legends, eyes ablaze just like hers.