The Dragon's Choice
Henry, who had been gently stroking my head, looked at Ian in bewilderment.
"Wh-what?"
I was so flustered myself that I couldn't stop Ian right away. But when a menacing aura emanated from Henry, whose arm Ian had grabbed, I commanded him.
"Ian! Stop it."
"……."
At my order, Ian slowly released Henry's arm and stepped back.
No matter how mild-mannered Henry was, he wasn't the type to tolerate such insolence. He was of the ducal bloodline and the heir to a count's family. In contrast, the Servbo were a special clan, but not nobility.
"I'll call for you later, so leave for now."
"But……."
"Leave, Ian."
"…Yes."
I sent the troublemaking Ian out of the room first. It seemed like Henry might calm down a bit once Ian was out of sight.
I turned to Henry, who was huffing in anger.
"Henry, I'm sorry about this."
"Huh? No, it's fine."
Henry, who had been wearing an uncharacteristically fierce expression, waved it off as he looked at me. Still, he radiated displeasure.
As he calmed down a little, Henry said in a joking tone,
"Come to think of it, this is the opposite of how it used to be. Normally, you'd get mad, and I'd be the one stopping you."
"When was that?"
Abigail had acted like a tamed cat in front of Henry, but she was still savage toward the servants. She didn't behave nicely just because Henry was watching.
So when she picked on a maid as usual, Henry would look troubled and intervene. Memories of those times naturally surfaced.
"Anyway, I'm a little relieved as a northerner that you'll be the ducal heir."
"As a northerner?"
"Father was worried too. He even asked His Grace to remarry for an heir… Ah, sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up."
The duke's only daughter seemed hopeless, so he must have nagged about remarrying for successors. The duke probably hadn't batted an eye.
"It's fine."
I showed a magnanimous, cool demeanor. But I couldn't help thinking that if the duke had remarried, Abigail's life in the original story might have turned out a bit differently. No, with that personality, she wouldn't have gotten along with a new family anyway. Living as Abigail was truly anything but smooth.
I swallowed a secret sigh inside.
* * *
After receiving the Lupus Count's family, other guests began arriving one after another at the ducal house. The count's territory was the closest, which was why Henry and his family had arrived early.
The rest came in a rush, leaving the duke and me no time to rest afterward.
"Heh heh, Lady Abigail, you've grown so much since I last saw you."
"Welcome. Marku Count."
I smiled as I greeted the duke's vassals. The Lupus Count's family and other prominent northern houses were all vassals loyal to the Carpoem Ducal House.
Marku Count was a white-haired veteran in his seventies, yet still hale and leading his countship.
"Visiting the ducal house like this makes it feel like yesterday when I roamed the battlefields with the previous duke! Heh heh heh."
Marku Count boomed with hearty laughter. A hero who had swept through monsters at the vanguard alongside the late duke. Unlike knights who wielded swords, he swung a massive iron warhammer—or so the stories went. I felt curiosity gazing at his sturdy frame.
"You still look as vigorous as ever."
"Do I?"
"Yes. So next time, please teach me a move or two."
I really wanted to learn from him. I was eager to see how he fought differently from sword-wielding knights—and to feel it myself. His battle experience must be vast.
The count's eyes sharpened for a moment. He was still smiling, but his gaze was fiercely lethal. I met it without flinching. With dragon's mana in me, I wouldn't be intimidated by this level of pressure.
We locked eyes for a while like that.
"Heh heh heh, very well, Lady Abigail."
Finally, the count withdrew his sharp killing intent and laughed boisterously again. As a close aide to the previous duke, he had always indulged the young lady's whims, treating her like a granddaughter.
But I couldn't keep basking in his affection forever. I needed to become his lord, not his granddaughter.
"Lucas Ater Marquis has arrived."
No sooner had I sent off Marku Count than another guest entered. I lightly tapped my bracelet with a finger. It hadn't reacted to anyone so far. It was about time someone tripped the trap.
As I habitually fiddled with the bracelet, my eyes met those of the man entering the drawing room.
"……!"
For an instant, his pupils seemed red. But that couldn't be. Crimson eyes were the mark of the ducal house, inheritors of dragon blood.
The duke approached him first with a warm welcome.
"Ater Marquis, it's been a while."
"Yes, I hope you've been well."
I observed the marquis from behind. He wasn't in Abigail's memories, nor in the novel. There were several marquis houses, but Ater? A name I'd never heard.
"Abi, this must be your first time meeting Ater Marquis."
"It's an honor to meet you, Lady Abigail."
I approached the marquis, who smiled softly. He had the typical southern look: stylishly swept-back short golden hair with an orange tint, handsome features. His orange eyes—once mistaken for red—pierced right through me.
"Pleased to meet you, Ater Marquis."
I greeted him with a bright smile too. Caution was key with unknowns.
Yet the duke was acting awfully friendly. Did they know each other from his time at the imperial palace? I tilted my head inwardly.
"Your Grace, how has your health been?"
"Ah, much better. I've even picked up the sword again lately."
"That's wonderful. Does that mean you'll resume the prime minister position?"
"You're doing splendidly in that role already—no need to worry."
The duke and Ater Marquis chuckled and exchanged compliments.
Before falling ill, the duke had been the empire's prime minister; afterward, Ater had taken the post. A prime minister should have appeared in the novel—why hadn't he? I pondered while scrutinizing his handsome face. He looked mature but could easily pass as a romantic lead.
Ater Marquis.
Time passed leisurely in the drawing room with tea and chat. I subtly channeled dragon's mana into the bracelet.
Bzzz.
The magic stone on it gave a tiny reaction. At that moment, my eyes met Ater Marquis's again.
"……."
"……."
He smiled at me as if amused. Pretending to sip tea leisurely, he narrowed his eyes at me.
Ah, so it was you. The one who cast that petty curse on the duke.
I met his gaze squarely and returned a sly smile.
* * *
Duke Carpoem could feel his body improving by the day. The new physician's treatments were working wonders; his illness was steadily receding. The occasional stabbing pain in his chest lingered, but it was milder than before. It felt like he was returning to his old self.
His once-withered face had filled out again. With his body and mind both recovering, he felt light as if he could soar. Ahead of the Magic Festival, he was in peak condition.
"Your Grace, are you really going through with this?"
The duke looked at Lupus Count in his study. Isaac Lupus Count—his one and only brother.
Gazing into eyes identical to his own red ones, the duke spoke softly.
"Isaac, we're alone now. Speak freely."
"Understood, brother."
Isaac nodded readily. It felt like old times. Back when they were boys, they had always been together in this mansion. His not-much-younger brother had followed him devotedly, brimming with talent.
If Isaac had outshone him, the duke would have gladly yielded the heirship. Their bond had been that strong.
But in the end, the dragon chose the duke, and Isaac inherited the Lupus Countship, leaving as an independent vassal—and the duke's most trusted subordinate among them.
"Brother, didn't you say you wouldn't make Abigail your heir?"
"Mm, I did."
Isaac stared at him with dissatisfaction. Until recently, they had agreed: Abigail wasn't heir material. The duke worried purely for her safety; Isaac for the house's stability.
They had been compromising despite minor discord. Then suddenly, the duke reversed course—without consultation.
"How could you? That uniform she wore……."
Isaac bit his lip, unable to finish. How could he forget? He vividly recalled the young duke wearing the same uniform.
Isaac had taken his brother's selection for granted. Of course the dragon chose his superior brother in every way. He'd idolized him since childhood. Their father, the previous duke, had been strong and taught them the strongest must lead.
Isaac had never once beaten him. Who else but his brother could succeed the house? With blind faith, he'd followed.
The dragon-chosen brother received the uniform crafted on the previous duke's orders—a black fabric with red embroidery, gold accents, dragon emblem on the epaulets. Worn only by the ducal house's master.
Isaac could still see his brother standing tall in it for the first time.
"You can't seriously mean to make her the heir. It's impossible. The dragon wouldn't choose a child like that."
"Well, about that……."
The duke looked troubled at Isaac. He disliked hearing Abigail belittled in heated emotion, and he partly agreed. But that was no longer the issue.
The duke sighed.
"No helping it. The dragon chose Abigail. She awakened not long ago."
"What? Pardon?"
Isaac's face twisted comically. The duke hadn't seen him so flustered since they were very young.
In a somber tone, the duke continued.
"And her awakening was a disaster. She leveled the entire knight order building. The dragon might have given her even greater power than it did the previous duke."
"Th-that happened……."
Isaac slumped into his chair as if collapsing. He couldn't believe it. He recalled the arrogant Abigail.