Proclaimed Heir
“...What?”
It took me a long while to regain my senses.
“This is my wish. When I become an official mage, please hire me at the ducal house.”
“......”
Did Ren even realize what he was saying right now?
This boy was destined to become the next Magic Tower Master. I was the only one who knew that for sure so far, but from our conversations, it seemed Benjamin viewed him as the successor too.
To be recognized as a mage, one had to become an official mage of the Magic Tower. And once recognized as an official mage, several paths opened up. One was to stay at the Magic Tower and advance magical research. The other was to serve as a mage for the imperial family or a noble house.
The imperial family owned its own magic corps, and imperial mages received recognition on par with those of the Magic Tower. The south was rich in mana, constantly producing talented mages, and the imperial family supported southern mages without reservation.
The north, on the other hand, wasn't abundant in mana. The Magic Festival had only recently begun, and it would take several more years to see its full effects. So no northern noble house had hired a mage yet. The Carpoem Ducal House had no plans to hire mages and form a unit either. It already possessed a powerful knight order, strong enough to fend off monsters on its own.
And yet Ren was saying he wanted to be hired there as a mage. The boy who should succeed Benjamin as Magic Tower Master someday.
If Benjamin found out, he'd try to kill me. For wasting this precious talent's time as a hostage in some backwater duchy?
I could practically feel Benjamin's flashing eyes boring into me, and cold sweat broke out.
“Ren, the ducal house has no plans to hire a mage yet.”
“...Is there no way?”
“Ugh.”
Ren's bright, sparkling eyes gazed up at me. I was weak to that look. But if I gave in and nodded now, it would spell disaster. We might even end up at war with the Magic Tower.
Right now, it was just a childish impulse on Ren's part. He enjoyed being around me, so he wanted to stay at the ducal house longer. It was nothing more than a fleeting whim.
“Have you talked to Benjamin—er, your master—about this?”
“...No.”
Ren bowed his head like a scolded child. Of course. If Benjamin knew, he would've started foaming at the mouth and interrogating me about how I seduced Ren before I could even mention the Ather Marquis.
Just thinking of Benjamin's overprotectiveness toward Ren made my head ache.
“Hmm, let's think about it a bit more.”
“But...”
Then, a saving voice rang out.
“My lady, it's time.”
“Ah, right.”
A quick glance outside showed the magic performance ending, preparations underway for the closing ceremony. The stage where the duke and I would speak was being set up.
“Sorry, Ren. We'll talk later.”
“...Understood.”
I ruffled Ren's hair out of habit and straightened my clothes. The thought of standing before countless territory folk made tension coil in my gut.
“Let's go.”
“Yes.”
As I left the VIP room, knights in uniforms like mine trailed behind in a line. I positioned myself near the stage, ready to go up right after the duke finished speaking.
The duke's voice rang out, calm even before the massive crowd.
“...Today, before countless witnesses, I proclaim.”
The duke's “proclamation” carried immense weight in the north. Northerners valued his words over even the emperor's. If he declared war here, they'd follow without question.
“Abigail Carpoem, ascend the stage.”
I stepped forward at his command. The once-silent surroundings buzzed as I appeared. Gasps rose from the nearby noble seats at my uniformed figure.
As I reached the stage, the duke bellowed as if he'd been waiting.
“From this day, I recognize my daughter, Abigail Carpoem, as the successor of the Carpoem Ducal House. I bestow upon her the Betula Territory, and henceforth, she shall be accorded the honors of a sub-duke.”
Betula. It was one of the most significant territories in the duchy, passed down to each successive heir.
From now on, I'd be called sub-duke or Countess Betula rather than just lady.
A brief silence, then screams of cheers erupted through the coliseum.
“Waaaaah!”
“Long live the lady! Long live!”
I let out a breath of relief amid the roaring crowd. The tension melted away like snow in spring.
I waved to the people as flower petals scattered like blessings. And then, my eyes met the crown prince's gaze fixed on me.
“......”
“......”
We stared in silence for a long moment.
Today's actions were unprecedented. The duke had chosen Abigail—whose reputation had hit rock bottom—as his successor, without a word to the imperial family beforehand.
Of course, naming a successor was the house head's prerogative. But this was a ducal house. No prior notice at all? The imperial family had every reason to be offended. Especially since Abigail was still engaged to the crown prince.
She'd requested a breakup, but it wasn't official yet. Declaring her successor so publicly was tantamount to announcing no intention of marrying into the imperial family.
Was the crown prince angry at our actions? Or surprised?
But his eyes were calmer than expected. He didn't frown in displeasure like the others might, nor cheer. He simply stared at me—stubbornly, relentlessly. At me standing proudly on the stage.
“Father, I'd like to say a few words too.”
“Of course, go ahead.”
The duke readily stepped aside. I took the voice amplifier, standing near the projection stone, and the massive cheers hushed like magic.
I steadied myself before the sea of faces. My enemies were watching somewhere too. I had to show them clearly who they'd made their foe.
“Carpoem shall forever be the north's unbreakable shield. No one shall mock us, and we shall never forgive those who insult us. The north is eternal!”
“Waaaaah—!!!”
“The north forever!!”
The old northern slogan I shouted echoed back from all sides. I burned the sight into my memory.
Today, I had become the Carpoem heir.
* * *
“...This is the worst.”
A displeased voice leaked from the man watching the Carpoem lady proclaimed as heir.
“Things have gotten far too complicated. How did it come to this?”
His lips curved in their usual soft smile, but his eyes blazed ferociously. As if he'd tear the young girl he stared at to shreds any moment.
The girl who should have been a mindless puppet now wielded undeniable power, her face brimming with arrogance.
The Carpoem duke, who should have withered away and died, stood hale and hearty, not a trace of pallor on his face.
Every plan had gone awry. And at the center was the Abigail, Lady Carpoem.
“That damned idiot marquis.”
He cursed the Ather Marquis under his breath—the one who'd botched everything. Another puppet under his control.
He hadn't expected the lady to sway even the Magic Tower Master. The snag began when the Ather Marquis was imprisoned in the Magic Tower's rune cell. They’d had to kill him prematurely there. They'd sealed his mouth thoroughly, but it wasn't foolproof. Half of it was just venting frustration anyway.
The man's eyes flashed toward Abigail. His hands twitched, itching to leap out and throttle her slender neck right then.
He asked his shadow.
“Can you kill her now?”
A slow voice slithered from the darkness.
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“The dragon and dire wolf will interfere.”
“Damn it all.”
The man spat a rough curse. Nothing went his way. Everything grated on him.
He should be savoring the Carpoem Ducal House's downfall by now. He couldn't fathom how it had turned out like this.
“...Abigail Carpoem.”
His cold eyes fixed on her. It was all that girl's fault. That irregular had ruined everything.
“Enjoy your smiles while they last.”
He ground his teeth, cursing her. The man touched the mask covering his face briefly, then turned away.
“Let's go.”
A few shadowed figures trailed the masked man silently. Beneath the mask, he gnashed his teeth once more.
He would never forget today's humiliation. And he would repay it in full.
No matter how big the prey, he didn't care. For elusive game, he'd set a larger trap and wait. Until it grew complacent in peace.
His eyes flashed blood-red for an instant.
* * *
“Abigail, Lady Carpoem.”
Before leaving, I turned at the calling voice. It was the crown prince.
“No—Countess Betula.”
“...Your Highness.”
I stared at him, at a loss for words. He waited for me before my carriage. I signaled my attendants to fall back.
“Do you have something to say?”
The crown prince stepped closer, eyeing me oddly.
“The uniform suits you well.”
“...Thank you.”
Strangely, it didn't sound mocking. An odd feeling—awkward, yet not unpleasant. We should be the most uncomfortable around each other, but here we were, gazing peacefully.
After a silence, the crown prince spoke.
“So that's why you wanted to break off our engagement.”
“I'm sorry for not telling you sooner.”
I bowed to him again. It might sound like an excuse, but I hoped he'd understand one thing about me.
“Please don't think the Carpoem Ducal House disrespects the imperial family.”
“It's fine. No need to apologize.”
To my surprise, the crown prince smiled. With a bright grin, he dropped a bombshell.
“Because I have no intention of breaking off our engagement.”
“...Pardon?”
I gaped at him in confusion. He just waved cheerfully.
“See you next time.”
“Wait, I...”
He hesitated briefly, then spoke.
“Abigail, Lady Carpoem.”
“......”
My mind reeled, but one thing was clear. It was the first time the crown prince had called Abigail by name.
I watched his retreating figure in a daze.